Shades of Time
by mquest
Summary: This is an A/U story. It will have every character from the show in it plus a few that I've created. Foyle and friends track a serial killer that has come from another time to wreak havoc in Hastings. This might just be the case that breaks him.
1. Chapter 1

**SHADES OF TIME**

She had drawn the short straw once again, Alexa Greene mused as she walked the cobbled path for the last time to the Hastings Police station. It was raining today. Upon further thought it was sort of fitting in a way. It had been raining on the day that she had arrived in this bloody place four months earlier, so why not be raining on the day she was to leave it for good? _Bloody_? Did she just say bloody in her own mind? Christ she had been here too long. Now she was starting to think like them. Thank goodness today was her last day for sure. Perhaps if she spent another day she might find that she actually liked the taste of Spam. Hah, now that was never going to happen!

As she reached the door there was a crack of thunder followed by a hot streak of lightning. Even if it was raining for her travel back home, she'd take the burn rather than stay one more night in war time England. In all honesty she had been everywhere around the world in most times. From the dawn of mankind-that had been for training purposes only-to the medieval crusades with its filth and pestilence, to the roaring twenties. She'd danced with mile high hippies in communes and was perhaps the shadowy figure on the Zapruder film. Everywhere in every time and she could honestly say that 1940 war time England was indeed the fifth gate of hell.

And no she hadn't killed JFK, however she had killed the time jumper that had traveled back to stop the assassination. For that is what she did. She was a Time Burner or in simpler terms a time cop. She and her comrades fought any and all crime that took place in the time continuum. First and foremost they were to uphold and preserve the history of time itself.

Time in a nutshell was like a ripple of water. It ebbed and flowed into the next timeline. Each ripple cascading from the other so on and so forth. Any disturbance to any ripple could have a devastating effect on the future. Even if it meant letting a good man die at the hands of a lone gunman- _history could not be changed._

This assignment however, was not for the preservation of history. No, this assignment had to deal with evil in its purest most natural form. She had been sent on the hunt for a serial rapist and killer. All thanks to a man named Darwin Price. Who is Darwin Price, you ask? Well simply put he was the man that invented time travel in the year 1979. Ironically that was the same year she had been born.

What they used for the time travel was a device called a Zapper. By now you should have noticed a running theme with time travel. They were called time burners, there method of travel was a Zapper and she was worried about the rain. Here's the thing. One didn't "travel" through time. They burned through it. And rain in the atmosphere made the sting of the burn that much more intensified.

The formula for this had been Price's life work. The technology however hadn't come about until right around the end of the Cold War. Pity really for the timing. For if it hadn't been but a few years later she wouldn't have had to be here. A few years later and perhaps the United Nations could have banded together and hidden the formula under lock and key. Unfortunately, that hadn't happened. And a grad student by the name of Johannes Fink had gotten his hands on the formula and with the technology at hand had created the first time Zapper.

Then all hell had broken loose. Governments around the world noted changes to history—entire families vanishing in a blink of an eye. That's when the United Nations took control of the situation and banded together a group of international spies called the Time Burners. Of course at first they had made it illegal for anyone to create their own Zapper and hidden the formula and technology away. They had also been able to set up a network that broke time itself into portals. The network could track any disturbance to a portal. This was a great thing for even with all of the added security there were hackers that could break through at any given time. As long as the network was up and running a jumper could burn through time and change the course of history.

That's what most jumpers wanted to do. Change the course of history. Maybe stop 911. Perhaps kill Hitler. Who didn't want to kill Hitler? But even though morally it would be right to put a stop to these things, it simply couldn't be done. For every ripple that that would effect would change the fabric of time itself that it couldn't be compensated and the world as we know it would be gone. History _had_ to be preserved.

Her Jumper however, didn't care about history. He didn't care about anything except for his thirst for blood. Her Jumper used the travel to hide among the ruined lives of the past in order to perpetuate heinous crimes against humanity. Her team had been chasing him for the better part of three years. He picked times in history when murder would be over looked because of war. His first choice had been during the French Revolution. For three days he had murdered five different women on the streets of Paris. No one noticed because of the chaos of the time. He had jumped before they could catch up to him.

He was silent for almost eight months before showing up again in Berlin during the end of World War 2. Alexa's husband James had went on that burn. But he never came home. The jumper had run into a building and disappeared out the back. James however had died when a mortar shell hit the entrance that he had been running through. She was told he died instantly which she was for the most part thankful for. For she had been dying a little each day since then- she knew the pain of long term suffering and was glad her husband hadn't. A month after James's death she miscarried their child.

She had vowed then and there as her child had bled from her body that she would catch this son of a bitch and make him pay for all that he had done. To his victims—to her. But goddammit if that bastard wasn't making it easy for her. He had somehow cracked something in the network and was able to fool the system. This time when he had jumped he had somehow been able to put in three different cache's of time- one to Saigon during its fall, one to NY September 11, 2001 and lastly to 1940 Hastings, England. They had no idea which one he had actually jumped to. So she and two other operatives had picked their periods out of a hat. It was just her luck that she had chosen the fifth gate of hell. She opened the door and walked into the inner realms of hell itself.

Behind the desk was Sergeant Rivers looking his usual self. There to her left sat Sam warming the bench and reading a magazine. She cringed a little inwardly upon seeing the girl sitting there. Not that she didn't like Sam, well truthfully no she didn't like Sam if she was to be honest with herself. She loved the girl and will probably miss her loads once she left. In a way she wished she could scuttle the girl off with her just to keep her safe from this insanity. But Sam's being here meant that the Overlord of the fifth gate was here as well. More than likely locked behind his office doors. And that meant that Alexa would have to deal with him one last time before she left this place for good. After four months it was obvious that the jumper hadn't come here.

"'Morning Miss." Rivers greeted her with a cheery smile on his face but not meeting her eyes exactly. Uh-oh Alexa thought, something was up. Her final clue that she was in trouble yet again was when Sam scurried off of the bench without so much as a good morning to her and out the doors into the rain. Wonderful, Alexa thought, here we go again.

Alexa drew a deep breath then walked up to Sergeant Rivers with knowing eyes. She stared at him until he'd meet her gaze which he finally did although rather reluctantly.

"He wants to see me?" Hell, Alexa figured, what's one more row before she went home? She might as well get it over with now.

"Sorry to say, but yes mm..Doc." She couldn't help the little smile that upturned the corner of her lips. It had taken her four months but she had finally gotten most of the men in the office to call her by her title instead of Miss or Missus.

Alexa reached across the desk and gave Sergeant Rivers' hand which was laying on top of the scarred wood a reassuring squeeze. With a wink of her eye she let go of him and headed for Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle's office.

"Oh, sorry there miss…I mean uh..Doc, but he's not in there." Rivers winced when Alexa spun around on her heals to look at him. Then he quickly put his head down while gnawing on his bottom lip in despair. "He's down in the ahhh…"

"Goddammit," Alexa couldn't help the curse from slipping off of her tongue. She felt bad though when Rivers started to rub the back of his neck vigorously. "Don't tell me he's in my morgue!"

"Well as a matter of fact.." Rivers' answer was cut off as Alexa banged open the swinging door that led to the basement. She took two stairs at a time in her rage. All the while thinking of how she was going to scold the damn man for once again intruding on her space thus contaminating any incriminating evidence that hadn't been processed yet. Didn't he know that there were proper procedures that needed to be followed!

Of course he did! She had just spent the last four months posing as a medical examiner and had taught this godforsaken precinct a thing or two about collecting evidence without contamination. Before she came along it was all willy-nilly. Alexa knew it wasn't 2014 but hell they could follow some type of system with what was at hand.

That was what she and Foyle had fought most about during her time here. Well that plus the fact that she was a woman Doctor from America, over to help the "war effort". She had to have some sort of cover, didn't she? She was indeed American. She was indeed a doctor. She was indeed trained to be a medical examiner. However pulling that off in 1940 England was a long stretch. It made her job much the harder but there was nothing she could do about it. Her agency could make any identity for her. They could put her into any position that they needed her in. They could even build an entire personal history so that if anyone did any research on her it was all right there in the paper work. And you better believe Foyle had Milner check her out extensively. As far as they knew here at the office she was a widow from New York City. She had studied medicine at Harvard Medical School. She was one of only a handful of women to do so at the time. Oh, yes her Agency was good.

They changed her hair to match the time. They changed her make-up and her speech. The one thing her agency couldn't change was the fact that she was a woman. That- she had to deal with- which she had no problem with. The men of this time, however, had a massive problem with it.

Chief Detective Superintendent Foyle was number one on that list. He simply couldn't deal with a woman telling him that he was doing his job wrong. Oh he was all fine and respectable in the beginning. He took his plight of being landed with a female American Medical Examiner with just a slight tuck of his chin and a chew to his cheek. But as time wore on and Alexa began to demand being called to the scene of the crimes before the bodies were removed things began to well up between her and Foyle.

They had festered to a mammoth size zit with a head just frothing to be popped. But it never had. She swung open the bay doors to the autopsy suite barging in like Wyatt Earp into the Okay Corral.

"What's the meaning of this, Foyle?" She demanded being met with his steely gaze even before her right foot was fully in the room.

His silence stopped her dead in her tracks. Damn if his eyes couldn't stop the devil. He was the only man ever to silence her with just a look.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek then cocked his jaw. From his hands he threw a folder across the medical examination table. It stopped just short of the edge before having the chance to topple over.

"What, may I ask," his voice was so steady. Never betraying what was really going on inside that head of his "is the meaning of that?"

_**A/N…Hello there. Hope you liked the beginning of this story. But let me give you a brief history of what made me want to write this. I just discovered the series about a week ago. I'm already through the 5**__**th**__** season. I'm holding off devouring the rest because I just love it so much. **_

_**Of course like most of us here…I began automatically shipping Foyle and Sam. I really wanted to write a story about the two. But ….I'm a mom. And I just couldn't get the age difference out of my head. Even though my own husband and I are 12 years apart. I just couldn't justify Sam and Foyle's age difference. But still I wanted to write a good love story for Foyle.**_

_**Then I began to think how Foyle would react to our time. What he would think about how the world works today. That gave me the time travel idea. My character is based slightly on highly self-assured women of today….I've been listening to a lot of Pink…so think Pink in your head when you picture this girl. (Somewhat..not entirely.) She's going to be a little out spoken. She's going to believe and do things that make Foyle blush but we don't think a second thought about. I just thought it would be fun having him deal with a head strong woman.**_

_**As for their ages I took Foyle's age from season one and Sam's age as of now. I figured a twenty year age gap was better than thirty year age gap. So anyway, I hope you like it and please review and let me know what you think. It's a lot of work putting this together and if it's all for naught please let me know right now.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own or stake claim to any part of Foyle's War.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Alexa gazed down at the discarded folder. For a brief moment panic coursed through her. The man was a brilliant detective even if he was a pain in her hind quarters. Had he discovered her secret? Could he have?

No, she quickly thought while regaining some of her composure. There was no way that he could have even if he did possess one of the sharpest minds she had ever encountered. Their methods here were just far too primitive.

Not that she was putting them down. It was just the simple truth. All they really had to go on were the papers that her own agency had planted. There were no back dated systems. No computers for them to look up information. All they could have found was only what the agency had wanted them to find. And they knew every crevice and corner to plant the clues that would have led Foyle and Milner to come to one conclusion and one conclusion only-that she was indeed Dr. Alexa Greene formerly from New York City.

Trying to hide her trepidation, Alexa picked up the folder from the desk. She was almost afraid to open it with the way that Foyle was staring her down right now. She almost half expected for the truth to jump off the first page of the folder and slap her in the face. Hesitantly she threw open the manila cover and let out a long sigh when nothing happened.

"These are my findings on the Benedict case, sir."

"Yes." Foyle answered as if verifying that she was correct. Silence stood between them as she waited to hear what he had to say. Then he nodded his head and shot his eyes down towards the folder then back to her. It was his very annoying way of telling her to look again at the papers. As if he were saying she'd find her answers there. However, she had no idea what his problem was. She had already written her findings, so what was it that he was hoping that she would see?

Humoring him she glanced back over her own written words. She pretended to study the chart of the outlined body on the second page where she had noted all of the strangulation marks around Mr. Benedict's neck.

"I'm not sure what it is that I'm supposed to be seeing here, sir." She closed the folder than threw it back down onto the table; it slid halfway to Foyle's side. "We could stand here all day or you could just simply tell me where your opinion and mine differ on the facts."

"hmmm…fffacts…right…well for starters," Alexa fought the grin that desperately wanted to appear on her face as Foyle tilted his head on the word 'starters'. She could always tell when it was going to be a good debate by his body language. If her gauge was at all accurate this one was going to be a dozy. "You have the cause of death listed as 'Accidental'."

"Yes, that's right." Alexa squared her chin up to him waiting for her next sign. Of course Chief Detective Superintendent Foyle didn't keep her waiting for long. His right eye closed into its half wince have wink while he dipped his right shoulder as if he were about to start a Waltz.

"Well, what I sssuppose I'm not understanding is how someone can accidentally hang themselves?" He raised his hands in question, "If it wasn't suicide..ttthen it's murder."

She made the 'I'm sorry to tell you this face' at him, "Well in this case it was neither." She began to walk over to their version of a cooler. "Here let me show you." She opened the heavy steel door and slid the gurney out with Mr. Benedict's body on it. Positioning it into the middle of the autopsy room, she turned on the over head lamp and pulled back the sheet.

Foyle made a look at the body that she couldn't quite describe- one of either pity or disgust. Then his eyes fell to the Y incision that ran down the length of poor Mr. Benedict's torso.

"You did a nice job sewing him back up. Dr. Macon never took that much care."

"Well," Alexa ruffled Mr. Benedict's hair like one would do to a schoolboy. "No need for our young man to go to his final party looking a mess now, is there?" She smiled down at the poor young dead man on her table. Even if Mr. Benedict had been a little kinky that didn't mean he didn't deserve respect. When she looked up from the body she found Foyle's eyes regarding her and her breath caught suddenly in her chest. Damn if the man didn't have some set of eyes. She wanted to say that she was quite afraid of them, but right now she wasn't so sure that was the case.

"Ummm…" Was that her uttering ummm? Had she, Alexa Greene, lost her train of thought because of the man standing in front of her drilling her with the light from his eyes? No, no no…now that was unheard of. "Ummmm…" she broke the eye contact with Foyle and looked back down at the body. What was it she was supposed to be doing right now? Think Alexa…think! You're standing over a dead body with your boss standing across the gurney from you. You must be doing this for a reason Alexa…think girl! Right -Mr. Benedict…suicide or murder. Okay girl, she told herself, get on with it then.

"You see here, Foyle." She pointed to the strangulation mark on the dead man's neck.

"From the rope used to hang him."

"Yes that's right." She pulled back the skin on Mr. Benedict's neck, "Now see here these older marks that look to be in various stages of healing."

"Ummm…yyess."

"Well that's because they are-in various stages of healing. This wasn't the first time that same rope had been around Mr. Benedict's neck. It's been around his neck numerous times. There's also this." She pulled back Benedicts eye lid from his left eye. "If you look here, sir, you can also see the petechial hemorrhaging in his eye. There are vessels that are freshly popped while others are healing from previous injury."

Foyle contemplated her findings for a moment, "So he's been strangled numerous times, that's what you're saying." Foyle dipped his head in thought. "Perhaps a form of torture?"

"No not torture sir." Alexa threw the sheet back over Mr. Benedicts head. "By the looks of it and the amount of times that he did it…I'm thinking he was rather fond of it."

Now she had Foyle completely baffled, "Of what?"

"Autoerotic asphyxiation."

"Auto…what now?"

She came up close to him and looked him straight into his eyes. Then she said the words meticulously slow off of her tongue, "Auto-erotic-asphyxiation." She let her words seep into him. When he swallowed with effort she asked, "Have you ever heard of it?"

She could tell he was afraid to answer when he took a half step away from her.

"Can't say that I have, no."

"Simply put," she busied herself with menial tasks around the office while she started her explanation. She was being such a hypocrite right now that she wanted to scream at herself. She had played this entire scenario out in her mind several times. She was quite annoyed with herself that she wasn't finding the courage to be the cocky and coy sphinx that she had planned on being in her imagination. As a matter of fact she was so embarrassed she couldn't even look at him. "A person will -whilst engaging in sex or manual stimulation -restrict the blood flow to their brain for increased sexual arousal." She stopped pretending to straighten out her pen draw long enough at this point to look up at him. Poor Foyle, he was standing still and bent almost completely to the left with his hands in his pockets. He looked like an animatronic at Disney World switched off in mid-speech. "It's supposed to intensify the pleasure of climax."

With her last declaration Foyle remained in his position steadfast. The only thing that moved was his tongue which jutted slightly out of his mouth in-between his front teeth. She could barely make out the tip of it, but what she could see was turning white from the pressure of being bitten.

"Sir?" She questioned when the silence became unbearable. "You might want to be careful, sir. You could really leave a bad sore on your tongue from doing that."

Foyle knitted his brow tightly, "Right." He said then took his hat that had just been in his hands and began to play with the brim. "And you're sure of this?"

"Well yes, sir. Other than the obvious previous injuries to his body I also found traces of castor oil, probably used as a lubricant on his left hand. And he was left handed. Plus I also found traces of semen on his inner and upper thighs as well as on the inside material of his trousers. My guess- his last go round got a little vigorous-he lost his footing on the stool during his climax. Not being able to regain any other footing around he basically- accidentally hung himself.

"Vigourous." Foyle repeated the one word from her assumptions.

"Yes, you know sometimes things can get a little…." Foyle held up his hand to stop her. She could tell she was thoroughly getting under his skin. 

"Well I guess the only question remains if he hung himself, then how did he get his pants back on? If you recall he was found with his pants on and buttoned."

"Sir, you have a son don't you? What would you do if you came home and found your son…"

"Alright…that's quite enough speculation." Foyle looked around the room nodding his head in time with his thoughts. She could actually feel him physically placing the pieces of the puzzle that she had provided him into the puzzle that had already been in his mind. Once he had all of the pieces together he placed his hat back onto his head then lifted it off just slightly in respect to her.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, he gave her an upside down grin. "Good job Greene. Good job."

"Thank you, sir."

She watched his back exit through the examining room doors. While they swung shut she heard him utter one last word under his breath before disappearing up the stairs, "Vigorous."

For the first time she was sad that today was to be her last day. She almost felt guilty that tomorrow he would be probing into the 'accident' that would be the cause of her apparent death. She didn't usually get emotionally attached to the people she met while doing a Burn. But in this case she hadn't been able to help it. She thoroughly respected all of them. Even if the Overlord had made her life here a living hell, she couldn't deny that he had a mind that could intrigue her for centuries. There weren't many people she could say that about. As a matter of fact she really couldn't recall any other.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Two hours later and Alexa or Lexie as she would soon be called once again, she only went by the formal while on assignment, emerged from the basement. She had taken care to leaving things in 'her' morgue as she liked to think of it in tip top shape for whoever would be replacing her. Even if her Burn here hadn't nabbed her killer she at least felt she had done some good while being here. In a matter of months she had turned this precincts pitiful excuse of a morgue into an actual working forensic pathology suite. She was grateful for that.

She had also taken the time to make sure she had left little 'goodbyes' in and around the morgue. Her favorite reading glasses left on an open forensic book with a page of half written notes. She had carefully placed a lipstick tube on the metal shelf in the bathroom as well as a pair of shoes in her locker along with a change of clothing. The little 'goodbyes' were always left to suggest that they had every intention of returning. They made the accidents of the operatives staged deaths all the more tragic and real.

This time tomorrow Foyle, Milner and Sam would be surveying the accident scene of one Dr. Alexa Greene's horrific death. Her body will have been burnt beyond recognition. The only objects left to identify the body will be charred remains of hair very similar to Alexa's. On the hand of the dead girl they will find her wedding band with her initials and that of her fake late husband's as well as the date of their supposed nuptials. All of the supporting documentation of course would be easily located with just a touch of investigation. However Foyle wouldn't have to dig too deep since Alexa had taken the time to show off her ring one day during tea with Sam.

Sam. Ah poor Sam. Alexa felt bad for what she was about to put the girl through. Sam was such a good natured soul. All of her emotions were always out there in the open for everyone to see. Alexa just knew that Sam was going to take her 'death' the hardest. Her guilt about it had been increasing by the bucket loads all morning. It was actually for Sam that Alexa drug herself out of the dungeon and into the light of day.

There wasn't much that Alexa could do about Sam. She couldn't tell her the truth, but what she could do was go to the local markets and cash in most of her remaining rations. She couldn't do all of them—that would be too obvious. Her plan was to fill her cupboards with the food in hopes that Foyle wouldn't let the precious provisions go to waste.

Sam had started to drive for Mr. Foyle the week after Alexa had arrived. Oh the shock to the poor man. First he had been saddled with a female pathologist then a female driver. It was a wonder that he had made it through the month of May. About a month after Sam had entered into her life, Alexa had snuck into the personnel files and had changed her paperwork to naming Sam as her next of kin. In the event of her death everything she owned would be inherited by one Samantha Stewart. It was the least Alexa could do.

Alexa reached the top of the basement stairs and walked into the chaotic commotion of the lobby. Just in time to see Milner enter from the outside doors with Mr. Benedict's brother Edwin in handcuffs. Following them was Foyle and Sam.

"Sir," Alexa began once she had made eye contact with Foyle. Hadn't she just told him the man's death had been an accident? How could he be arresting Edwin Benedict with the evidence she had presented to him only hours ago?

Foyle cut her off with a nod of his head indicating that she should follow him into his office. She walked around the spectacle of Milner physically bruiting Edwin towards the Sergeants desk and telling Rivers to find the boy a room at their establishment.

She followed Foyle and Sam into the office with Milner now on her heels after successfully ridding himself of his collar.

"Sir," she began again her initial argument once they were behind the closed office door. "I thought it was decidedly clear that Spencer Benedict's death was an accident made to look like suicide."

Foyle stood behind his desk glancing down and fidgeting with some paperwork that adorned the surface before bending at the knee slightly to the right before answering her, "Well actually, it was a murder disguised to look like an accidental suicide."

"But…" Her argument was cut short by Foyle's hard downward glance. One learned very quickly not to disrupt this man's train of thought. Once he was locked into it, any and all objects in his way would be smashed to smithereens from the sheer force of it. She silenced herself immediately.

"Spencer Benedict was a man of habit…wouldn't you say Greene?" She nodded her head slightly to answer his question. "The same oil was found staining the floor where he was found. Soaked clear through the wood. He used the same rope…"

"The same rope for what, sir. I'm afraid I don't quite understand this entire thing." This time it was Sam that had interrupted him. However it wasn't only Foyle that reprimanded her, it was all three of the other adults in the room.

"Shush Sam." They all three said at the same time leading Alexa to believe that Milner knew what it had been used for but not Sam. No- Foyle would never allow Sam to know.

Once Sam had quieted and accepted her fate of being left out Foyle continued.

"The same oil, the same rope…" He stopped himself short allowing Alexa to put the final piece of the puzzle into place.

"And the same stool." This earned her a rare appraising look from Foyle.

"Precisely." He reached into an evidence bag that was made of burlap and pulled out the stool. Inwardly Alexa cringed at the fiber made sack that the object came out of. The words CROSS CONTAMINATION OF EVIDENCE flashed in red throughout her mind. They can't help it, Alexa, she told herself. They don't have the same tools that we do. They can only use what's on hand for the time. "The same stool." He held the stool up and wobbled one of the remaining broken legs. "Which if you look at it closely was sawed and then glued back together. Now wouldn't you say that if someone was…ummm…_vvvigorously_ using the stool for the job at ummm…hhhand that it would…"

"Break under the pressure." She finished for him. "Leaving him hanging."

Foyle tapped his hand on the desk, "Exactly. We searched the brothers work shed. Milner found some splinters left behind that match the wood of the stool. We also found the glue…"

"Yes," Alexa interrupted, "But that's all circumstantial. He could simply claim to have repaired the stool at some point or another. Or Spencer Benedict had."

"Well that's true, except when presented with the evidence, ummmm…Edwin confessed." Foyle finished in an almost birdsong voice at the end.

Alexa gave him an appreciative nod of the head, "Pretty good Foyle…pretty good."

He gave her the same nod back, "Well thank you. I thought so too."

At that they all shared a slight laugh.

"I still don't understand, sir." One could actually hear the roll of three pairs of eyes when Sam began her questions. "What would he be vigorously doing on a stool with a rope around his neck?"

"Ahhh…" Foyle suddenly found the pen on his desk the most interesting object in the room and began fiddling with it obsessively.

"I'll explain it later, Sam" Alexa answered for him. This in turn earned Alexa shocked wide eyes from her boss. With her back still to Sam she made a doubtful look towards Foyle while giving him the slightest shake of her head thus reassuring him that not in a million years would she explain the fundamentals of auto-erotic asphyxiation to the girl.

"After we've had some lunch." Alexa knew how to quiet Sam quickly. The mention of any food always did the trick. Alexa checked her watch. She had four hours remaining until the rendezvous time. That gave her plenty of time to share a last meal with her new friends with enough time left over for the market. "How's 'bout I take you three out for lunch? I mean it's the least that I can do. You all got it right while I was wrong."

"Wwwell…actually…Greene we wouldn't be anywhere if it weren't for you."

"How's that sir?" His statement quite baffled her.

"Well, let's just say that the case was _vigorously_ solved."

"Oh," she couldn't help the slight blush that his words put on her cheeks, "just the same. I would like to treat you all." She raised her eyebrows in a silent plea to him.

"Well I don't see how I deserve anything." Sam stated in a pout. "All I did was drive the car." Poor innocent Sam was obviously feeling a bit left out.

"Yes, but ummm you shouldn't forget how important that was Sam."

"Important?" Sam questioned Foyle back. "How is driving the car important?"

Placing his hat onto his head Foyle began to usher Sam out of his office door. Once she was almost through he raised his arm to indicate that Alexa should follow Sam out. She was standing next to Foyle with his hand on the small of her back waiting for Sam to get out of the doorway.

"Simply put if you hadn't driven us there we wouldn't have been able to make the arrest. Wouldn't you say that was true, Sam?"

Sam stopped just outside of the door frame giving it great thought. The sudden stop caught Foyle and Alexa squeezed tight in the threshold.

"I suppose so, sir." Sam answered after a few seconds of pondering. From behind them Milner chuckled at Sam's response and Foyle threw him a conspiratorial wink.

Just then Sergeant Rivers along with a few Constables came through the lobby with a gang of five men thus trapping Alexa and the others where they were at for the time being.

"Pub brawl sir." Rivers explained to Foyle. "Take just a moment to settle them in."

"Need some help?" Foyle asked as Rivers grabbed one of the brawlers and dragged him back into the line with the others.

"Nah, we've got it sir."

"Alright then, carry on." Foyle looked as uneasy as Alexa felt inside. Sam couldn't go forward less she run smack into one of the brawlers. Milner blocked her and Foyle's escape back into the office—so for the moment they were good and stuck in the tight space.

"So….ahhh…where would you like to go for lunch, sir?" Alexa asked. She thought maybe talking a little might take the awkward out of having her right thigh pressed against his left one.

"Well let's see….ummm" He gave her a teasing wink, "It's on you, then?"

"Yes, sir."

Foyle seemed to ponder the possibilities.

"How about someplace you haven't been to in a while?" She thought she might help him to decide. "Any ideas, sir?" There was a loud bang out in the hall pulling Alexa's attention away from Foyle. Thus when he answered her it was more whispered in her ear rather than said to her face. Perhaps if it might not have been the miss-understanding that was about to take place could have been avoided.

"Well, perhaps you'd like to try Spread-eagle. I haven't eaten there in a while. Are you up for that?"

Alexa's head snapped back at Foyle faster than a bullet out of a Luger. Had she just heard him correctly? Had he just suggested what she thought he suggested -in a rather lewd way? Her mind didn't have time to investigate all of the possible meanings of his statement before her right hand came up and smacked him hard across the face.

"Sir!?" She replied in indignant shock. After the resonating sound of the crack of the slap ceased echoing in the lobby Alexa heard Milner from behind her choking on a gasp of horror.

Her mouth gaped open at Foyle who was rubbing his red cheek that now sported a perfect imprint of her hand on it.

"If you didn't want to eat at the Spread-eagle Hotel, a simple 'no thank you, sir', would have sufficed." His voice never went an octave below or above normal. He remained calm even though she was sure he was just as surprised by her attack as Sam. Dear Sam that was now standing with her hands covering her mouth in silenced disbelief.

Alexa was still in attack mode so it took her mind a second longer than normal to process what he'd just said.

With her hand still in midair ready to throttle him for his unprofessional suggestion she stopped before it reached his throat.

"Wait…what…hotel?" Her stomach dropped around the vicinity of her toes. "Did you say hotel?" Foyle simply stared into her eyes. "Are you saying you people have a hotel here with the name… Spread-eagle?"

"Yes." Foyle flatly replied.

Alexa looked around the room. All of the chaos of the pub brawlers had ceased to exit. Everyone's complete attention was focused on them.

"OHHH…." First Alexa's hand covered her mouth in horror from her faux pas then she reached up and tenderly rubbed his cheek which was now starting to swell slightly, "Sorry." She winced at the raised welts. "I thought….I mean…I thought you were being…ah… well…"

"Yesss?" Oh boy, she could tell he was thoroughly annoyed.

"Well…I thought you were being fresh, sir. In America spread eagle means…something totally different. You didn't say hotel..you said 'eat out at spread eagle'…I just…I…I… took it the wrong way. I'm sorry, sir."

Foyle shook his head at her, "I would love to know the translation."

Alexa looked at Milner then to Sam. There was no way she could tell Foyle and not have the others over hear. That plus the fact that she really didn't want to tell him.

"I'm pretty sure you don't, sir."

Foyle pinned her with his eyes. She wasn't getting out of that doorway without some sort of explanation. Sighing she accepted her fate and whispered what he needed to know into his ear.

When she was done, he reared his head back slightly and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"Rrrright." Whether or not her brief explanation had embarrassed him she really couldn't tell. He was a master at bottling up his emotions.

Finally with the mess in the lobby finally cleared up Foyle swept his hand out indicating they could get out of there now. The group silently made their way out of the building and out into the street. Sam and Milner practically jumped into the car. They were both probably hoping that the inside of the automobile would be considered neutral territory.

From their side of the car Alexa apologized again.

"I really am sorry, sir. I'd do anything to make it up to you somehow."

"Anything? You say? Somehow I don't believe that."

"Honestly, sir. Just name it and I'll do it."

Foyle paused just as he was about to get into the car then turned and looked at her, "Actually it's painfully obvious," he cocked an eyebrow while rubbing his cheek again before finishing, "that you wouldn't do just _anything_."

Alexa's mouth dropped open. Was he being _cheeky_ with her? Had the taciturn Chief Detective Superintendent Foyle just cracked a joke?

Foyle's chuckle as he ducked into the car sent a shiver down her spine. My God he had. Alexa quickly glanced around looking straight up to the sky to make sure it wasn't indeed falling down onto her head. For Foyle's behavior had to mean one thing and one thing only. That today was indeed Armageddon. Impending doom settled into her chest.

To her surprise lunch went off without a hitch, even if Foyle had refused to make any sort of eye contact with her. Alexa especially enjoyed the senseless chatter between Milner and Sam. She couldn't help but think that the two would have made a splendid couple. It was too bad that Milner was still married to his horrendous wife. She had met Jane Milner once, albeit briefly. However it was long enough for Alexa to surmise that the woman had a heart made out of coal.

After fighting off Foyle for the bill—he was forever the English Gentleman—when they were about to leave a Constable came up to the table.

"Pardon Miss…ahhh I mean Doc, but this parcel was dropped fer you at the station 'ouse. The messenger said it were urgent so I brought it right over."

Alexa looked down at the brown papered small box that was set in front of her. Tucked under the tied string was an envelope. Alexa froze at the inscription. Written in scrolling elegant slanted cursive was her name, _Lexie_. No one called her by that name except her friends and colleagues from back home. The only people from that time that were here were her handlers and they knew well enough to keep her cover intact.

"Lexie?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah we fought it was kinda funny too." The Constable replied in his heavy accent. "Rivers told the messenger boy we didn't know no Lexie. But the boy said the man that gave 'im the package specified it were for Dr. Greene. My guess…" the Constable tilted back on his heels as if he were Sherlock Holmes about to solve a great case, "it's 'er nickname."

All eyes had been on the Constable, except for Foyle's. His had remained fixed on Alexa.

"Aren't you going to open it?" He asked and Alexa could feel his inner thoughts in the words.

With shaking hands she lifted the flap and pulled out the letter. It was short and sweet and shot straight through to its evil point.

_**Waiting and watching from the shadows has become mundane. I think it's time we play the game. **_

Alexa's heart stopped beating. Her Jumper was here and what was worse he knew who she was. Had he been watching her this entire time?

"Open the box." Foyle more commanded than asked. Apparently her attempt to keep this all nonchalant was failing miserably. Foyle was onto her like mold on two week old bread. Alexa knew darn well she should fold the note up right now and make a feeble excuse to open the box later in private. But she was beyond all that right now.

In all of these years the bastard had never made contact with any Operative. They didn't even know what he looked like and they had been tracking him for almost a decade. She couldn't wait one more second to open that box. She _had_ to know what was inside of it.

With deft fingers she pulled the tied string from the box. She threw open the top and removed the tissue paper like a child on Christmas morning. However it was a shriek of horror instead of joy that shot out of her lungs when she saw what was lying at the bottom of the box. In utter disbelief she looked again then shoved the box away from her.

Foyle looked to Milner than Sam before he grabbed a hold of the discarded box. When he opened the lid he let out a slight curse, "Good God in Heaven. What am I looking at?"

Reeling back in from the shock Alexa tried to formulate some sort of explanation for Foyle. Although she didn't quite know how she was going to explain someone sending her a box containing the mummified finger of her dead husband.

_**A/N I want to give a big thanks to Harper64. Thanks for all of your help. And I want to thank each and every one of you that took the time to leave a review. It means a great deal to me so thanks again for reading. Hope you like where it's going.**_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

D.C.S. Foyle sat in his chair behind his desk. He rolled the solid gold ring over his fingers again feeling the weight of it. Then he read the inscription for the tenth time hoping that something might jump out at him. _**Forever in Time**_. No date, no initials just those three simple words were etched with precision on the inside of the diamond channel set ring.

Odd really though not quite as odd as Dr. Greene's reaction had been. Once she had gotten over the initial shock she claimed she had never seen the ring before. Nor could she shed any light on what the message in the note meant or who it could have been from. But something in his bones made him think otherwise.

Something told him she knew damn well whose finger that was in the box. What he needed to find out was why she felt the need to hide it from him. Not that he suspected her of anything. Well, other than lying to him which was nothing new. She had been doing that from the beginning. Of that he was for certain. Whatever her reason for being here receiving the finger had shaken her down to her core. He could smell the fear coming off of her. And he didn't like it. Not one bit.

There was a curt knock on his door before Sam's head popped in.

"She's leaving, sir."

Foyle grabbed his hat from his desk and plopped it on top of his head.

"Rrrright." He said following Sam out of the door.

It was high time he found out what she was really going on.

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"Are you sure it was James's finger, Lex. Without DNA…"

"It still had his wedding ring on it, Charlie." Alexa replied in exasperation. "I don't need DNA to know."

"Right…but still I'll have to bring it back with me for analysis. We'll run some tests just to be sure."

Alexa bit her lower lip. It was a habit she had recently picked up since arriving in Hastings. She needn't wonder where it had come from.

"Actually you can't bring it back. I don't have it." Charles Gideon stopped his pacing right in front of her placing his hands on his hips.

"Where is it then?"

"It's locked up in evidence back at the precinct." Oh boy was she going to get it now. She almost wished Foyle was here instead of Charlie. Foyle may have been a formidable boss but he wasn't quite as intimidating as Charlie was when an Operative screwed up. And man had she screwed up.

"Why would you leave it there?"

" 'Cause…I opened the box in the presence of D.C.S Foyle as well as his sergeant and his driver. I had to put it into evidence. There were witnesses, sir."

"Christ Lexie!" His arms shot up in the air emphasizing his frustration with her. "What were you thinking?"

"I didn't know that it had come from the Jumper. He's never made contact before. Ever. How was I supposed to know? I didn't even think he was here."

Charlie let out a long sigh, "But he is here. And what's worse he knows who you are." He kicked at a stone that knocked off the closest tree trunk. "I should pull you out of here right now…." He held up his hand to silence Lexie's protests, "but I can't. You're already settled here plus there isn't anyone to spare right now."

The impending doom that she had felt earlier spiraled up from her stomach again, "Are you saying you're leaving me on my own here, sir?" Alexa had expected for him to send at least two more Operatives now that it was confirmed that their Jumper was indeed here.

Charlie's face was momentarily illuminated by the light of the fool moon that had found a crack amongst the thick tree branches of the forest. The way the silver light fanned across his face made the wince look almost painful.

"I don't have a choice. Everyone is off on a new case."

"Even Jonesy and Moore?" They were the two other operatives that had jumped to other periods after the same suspect. They should have at least been available.

"Moore came back three months ago and Jonesy three weeks ago. They're both already out on this new case. And believe me I can't spare anyone from that one." Charlie peered up through the trees at the moon, "It's pretty bad."

"How bad? What's it about?"

Charlie shook his head and stared down at the ground. For three years he had been her Supervisor—before that he had been her partner. Never in all of these years had she seen him look quite so unsettled.

"I think its best not to tell you."

"Wha…

He silenced her question with his hand. Rubbing the knot between his eyes he simply said, "I need your head here and not worrying over something you have no control over."

"Charlie," she went to him and placed a hand on his forearm. "You're scaring me." He looked down at where her hand lay upon his arm, and then he reached over with his opposite one and gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling her into a giant hug.

"Are you all right here?" He asked her after placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Is there anything you need?"

She giggled a little at his question. What didn't she need here? It defiantly wasn't home. She snuggled her cheek against his hard chest and just relaxed into the familiar feeling. She had been here so long she hadn't realized quite how lonely she had been. It felt so nice just to be near a friend she wanted to cry.

"What do I need or what do I want?" She began while looking up into his face. For right now he wasn't playing her Supervisor, but her best friend. He had been that for way longer and it was hard for them to leave it behind. So they simply never had. They would always be friends before colleagues. "What I want is a cheeseburger and some McDonald's fries. I would kill for some Ben and Jerry's Half Baked right now. Oh …and a hot steaming shower where I can let the water run for oh…I don't know…about an hour. What I _need_," she removed herself from his arms and began to pace, "is to sleep through the night without being terrified out of my bed by air raid sirens. What I _need_ is to leave this Godforsaken war in the past where it belongs. Not my present."

"I know Lex…I know. I hate having to leave you here. Just find this bastard then hopefully you can come home." _Hopefully_-what did he mean by that? Before she had the chance to ask him he was readying himself to leave, "Listen I have to get back. You know how to reach me if you need me." He hesitated for a minute before hitting the button on the plastic bracelet that adorned his wrist. "If for any reason communications are down or you don't hear from me," he turned the Zapper on and the illuminated key pad lit up a bright red in the darkness, "I want you to contact a Hilda Pierce. Go to the Holy Trinity Church on Robertson St. In the cemetery find the stone of one Fox W. Mulder…"

"Seriously? You stole that from the X-Files."

Charlie looked up at her in annoyance as he was punching in his Burn Code, "You won't forget the name, now will you? We were hoping by giving you fictional characters that we wouldn't have a repeat from the last time. We've learned from your past mistakes."

"Okay…Okay….point taken." Jeez turn one cemetery upside down and they never forget it.

"At the base of the stone you'll find a compartment. Just leave a note for her there and she'll find you."

"Why have I never heard of her before?"

"She's not one of us. She's just a contact. But she knows and she can be trusted." Charlie finished punching the last of his code in. Before he hit the Enter button he said, "See ya on the flip side." Then he hit the button and with one last wink of his eye he was gone.

In the silence of the woods she had never felt so alone. No one was coming to help. It was all up to her. The weight of her burden suddenly felt too heavy for her shoulders to bear. She took a moment to ponder her options.

She knew what she was about to do was completely against the rules. In reality that didn't matter too much to her. She wasn't one to follow the rules much. If her parents were still alive they would testify to that fact. It was more the detrimental effects it could have that worried her. She weighed the pros and cons out in her head. There was no way she could do this alone. If she tried and failed the outcome could have even worse effects than her changing their time ripple. She simply had no other choice.

She turned to the tall oak about twenty feet to her left. Then she spoke out into the darkness.

"You can come out now." She saw the silver shadow of Sam's unhidden arm duck back around the tree trunk. Alexa rolled her eyes at the scene. Did they really think they were fooling anyone? "I know you're there. I know you have questions. Come out now and I'll tell you what I can."

In the darkness she could hear Foyle suck on his cheek. She knew he was contemplating what move to make next. After a half a second he moved out from behind the trunk to where she could see him.

"I think I would like to hear…everything, Dr. Green. Starting with the identity of your friend," Foyle's narrowed squinted eyes searched the wood, "Where did he go?"

Since Alexa had been aware of their presence from the very beginning she had made it a point to keep her and Charlie out of their earshot as well as their eyesight during his burn.

"Foyle listen to me closely. As you've probably figured out I'm not here to help out with the "War Effort". I was placed here on assignment by my Agency."

"And the name of that Agency would be….?"

"Listen," Alexa sighed while she configured just what she could let them in on and what she couldn't. "I'm going to let you in on a little of what I'm doing here. I will give you the details of the case and the case alone pertaining to the here and now. Anything that I leave out, which includes the name of my Agency, you must believe is for your own good." She came up and stood face to face with him so that she could look into his eyes.

Sam who could hardly contain her excitement yelped out, "You're a spy, aren't you?"

Without breaking eye contact with Foyle, Alexa replied, "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

Foyle narrowed his eyes into impossible slits. She wavered only momentarily under their scrutiny. For a second she thought he could almost see right through her to the truth. Finally he nodded his head, "Alright we'll start on your terms…," he cut her a strong sideways glance, "for now. Can you at least tell me who the gentleman was that you were meeting with?"

"Oh I know this one," Sam interrupted, "he's your man."

"Good God No," For reasons unbeknownst to her Alexa felt she needed to clear that misunderstanding up with Foyle straight away, "He's my Supervisor. Not boyfriend…not at all." Alright Alexa I think you made your point.

"But he had his arms around you." Apparently not clear enough for Sam. "And he kissed you."

"He's my Supervisor and my very close friend. We used to be partners."

"Partners? Is that an American term for lovers?" Sam whispered the last word. She was guessing for Foyle's sake.

Alexa lifted her eyes up to heaven searching for strength. "No, Sam, my partner at work. We are not now nor have we ever been romantically involved."

"Hmmm…" Sam hummed in disbelief.

"Are you quite done?" Foyle who had remained silent during Alexa's inquisition asked Sam.

"Oh yes sir, sorry sir. I just thought it was important to get to the bottom of it."

"Yess…and you did. In fact I believe you bottomed out."

Alexa began giving Foyle and Sam the details about her Jumper. Although she left out the part about the time travel for that was something that she couldn't tell them. She wasn't even supposed to include them in on the case so she was breaking protocol enough by just doing that.

"He's evil personified, sir. And no one has ever seen him. We have no description. His murders are in the high double digits and not one witness has he left behind. He's like smoke."

"And you're sure he's the one that sent the parcel today?"

Alexa nodded her head. "Without a doubt. My husband was the last Operative to track him. He died while in pursuit of the suspect. It was James's finger and ring in the box." Alexa wiped swiped at the tears that threatened to fall. Dammit, she was a strong independent woman. Tears were not in her resume. "The bastard thinks this is all a game."

Foyle was quiet for a long while gnawing incessantly on his inner cheek. "And he seems to think that you're a part of it."

A/N Thanks again for reading. I'm always grateful for reviews!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It had been four days since Dr. Greene's suspect had made his initial contact. Since that time Foyle had been too preoccupied with Graham Davies' murder as well as Andrew's unjust incarceration to look further into the matter. To her credit so had Dr. Greene.

She had performed an autopsy on Davies and was currently looking into the WAAF officer's suicide from a few weeks ago that somehow tied into the case. He had half expected her to put little to no effort into other cases now that the truth had been revealed. However she quite surprised him. Her tenacity in the field never wavered as she had dug just as strongly for justice as he had.

There was a soft knock on his office door.

"Sir," Milner began as he entered into the office then firmly shut the door behind him. "I questioned the messenger boy as you asked." It had been decided on the night that Alexa had brought him and Sam in on the case that Milner had to be included as well.

"And..." Foyle encouraged him.

"Well, it's a tangle really, sir." Milner flipped open his note pad. "The boy that dropped the package off to the precinct was one Lonnie Becker…you know him sir. He's the young paper boy that stands out on the corner with the evening edition."

"Ah yes."

"Well Lonnie received the parcel from Guy Durgess. Durgess delivers milk to the surrounding neighborhood. Durgess received the package from Frank McCombs. Frank McCombs drives a coal lorry. He got the package from one Jeffrey Taylor. Now Taylor arrived on the 12:15 from London. Taylor claims that a woman approached him on the platform while he was waiting for the train. Asked him if he could make sure the package got to one Dr. Greene at the Hastings Police Station. Every time the package was passed off so was this note," Milner handed Foyle the dirty crumpled up piece of paper. "With the details of the delivery outlining each person the next was to drop the package to."

Foyle tried without avail to straighten out the piece of paper. "Fish this out of the trash?"

"No sir, Lonnie had it in his trouser pocket. Along with some dead bugs, rocks and what I think was once an apple slice. Though I can't be sure."

"Rrright. No one that you talked to actually saw the suspect."

"No sir. And the trail stops at Taylor. He never met the woman that had approached him before. Didn't even get her name. But at least we know that the suspect isn't here in Hastings since the package originated from London."

Foyle sat for a moment in his chair and pondered that. Why make delivering a package so complicated unless…

"Or that's what he wants us to think. No, he knows this area too well. He knows the delivery routes of all of these people. He knew precisely who to trust in order to get the package here. No-he's here and he's watching us chase our tails around in the circle he's set for us."

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So Lucy Smith had been pregnant when she decided to throw herself in front of an oncoming train. How sad and desperate she must have been Alexa mused as she read the Medical Officers report on the dead girl. As she typed up her report for Foyle she couldn't help but mourn just a little for the two lives lost.

She had been doing that a lot since she had arrived here in Hastings. Although she had gone to medical school and had actually majored in forensic pathology, she had never gotten the chance to really work in the field. She had been recruited into the Agency before she had even finished her degree. Of course on other cases she had performed autopsies. She had done plenty of those while on the job. However they were individual cases pertaining to what they were working on at the moment.

Here was completely different. These were people that had nothing to do with the reason she was here. Nothing what so ever to do with her case, just ordinary people who led ordinary lives. They were people she might have passed on the street or sat next to while eating lunch. Here one day and gone the next.

That phrase had played out in her mind while she had performed the autopsy on Graham Davies. Here one day gone the next. Ironically, for Mr. Davies, had it not been for the knife stabbed into his heart he would have been dead that very same night anyway. For the bomb that had struck his house would have surely killed him. Goddamn bombs.

Lexie rubbed away the tension from between her eyes taking note of her shaking hand. Damn bombs. It was one thing to read about the war in text books. Or watch the horror that had unfolded in documentaries. It was another thing living through the hell of it. Here in Hastings they had had quite a few deaths due to the bombing raids, although nothing compared to London.

This made Lexie wonder-why Hastings? Why wouldn't the Jumper have gone to London? He always hid among the chaos to perform his evil tasks. Among the chaos he could be lost like the smoke he was. So what had brought him to Hastings and why was he being so quiet? Other than the package arriving, he had done nothing since his arrival here. Nothing in Hastings, nothing in London—Lexie scoured the papers daily to make sure. Why was he being so patient? It was almost as if his business for being here was to make sure she stayed put and nothing else.

Lexie shook the last thought out of her head. No, she thought as she checked her watch it was half past seven, his patience is just all a part of his game. She just wished, as she took off her autopsy clothes, that she knew what game it was that he was playing.

She threw her soiled clothes into a burlap bag. They had had a floater come in this morning. She had estimated from the amount of decomposition that the gentleman had been in the water for at least a week. The stench from the poor bloke would probably never really be removed from her make-do scrubs that consisted of a set of men's pajamas. She contemplated simply tossing them as she stepped into her make-shift shower.

She had set the shower up after her first autopsy here in Hastings. She had run a hose from the scrub sink up and over one of the exposed pipes that lined the ceiling of her "autopsy suite". Then she had attached a shower head to the hose. She had then hung a sheet by wire into a semi-circle so that if anyone came in she would at least be covered from the front. The back however was completely opened. But no one ever came in the back door. In fact she always kept it locked.

It was ingenious really for the floor naturally slanted so that all fluids would drain down into the drain hole. So she never had to worry about the water gathering. Plus, here, she could take as long of a shower as she wanted. At her flat she shared the bathroom with two other girls. The land lady set a timer whenever they would use the facilities. Seven minutes. It would take Lexie seven minutes just to scrub the first layer of filth from her body let alone to get a proper cleaning.

She turned the water onto scorching and stepped into the shower. She felt instant relief as the heat and steam soaked into her tired muscles. It was better than sex—well from what she could remember of sex. It had been so long. For some reason that she couldn't quite fathom the thought of her lacking sex life conjured up an image behind her eyes of Foyle while he had dressed down a young constable today.

The poor young lad had made the mistake of being a little forward with her. He was new to the job and had no idea of who she was before he had cheekily wrapped his arm rather low on her backside and offered his assistance to her. Foyle had come in behind her and seen the entire encounter. And boy had he let the young man have it. Lexie had felt bad for the poor thing. She had been on the receiving end of those piercing blue eyes many a times since she had started here. She knew exactly how the boy had felt.

Those eyes could tell an entire story without the man saying a word. She often found that she would reflect upon one of their conversations and judge just how the exchange went by characterizing the different flashes those eyes had cast upon her.

As she lathered shampoo into her hair for the second time, she thought back to how those eyes would more often than not be angry slits when she had first started here. Most of their "discussions" would end in heated arguments. Truthfully the heated arguments were mostly on her part. Foyle was a man of few words, even in a debate. Even now after all of these months she would still receive the annoyed cut or two from those baby blues. Sometimes though, when she least expected it she would look up and find him standing across the room and those eyes would stop her heart from beating and catch the breath in her throat. This irritated Lexie down to her bones.

She was about to have another lengthy discussion with herself about the fact that she was NOT attracted to her boss when something flew into her line of vision from behind her and landed against the legs of the examination table. Her hands stilled in her hair as they were getting the remains of the shampoo out. She peered over the top of the sheet enclosure and focused on the object. It was a large rock. Well now, she thought, that couldn't have fallen from anywhere. That had to have been thrown. Quickly she turned around and her heart froze in her chest.

Standing directly behind her in the opening of her make shift shower was a large broad man clad in all black including a face mask that barely revealed the color of his eyes and the shape of his mouth. A stifled scream caught in her throat. She backed up against the wired up sheet and almost fell to the ground finding no resistance there to hold her shaking legs up.

Her attacker moved slowly towards her holding his finger up to his mouth, "Shhssss," he hissed, "we wouldn't want to wake the copper that's asleep behind the desk now would we?" His voice was more gravel than sound and it raked down her spine. She was naked and wet and had nowhere to run. For the first time in her life fear filled her all the way to her very core.

"If its money you want my purse is over on that table. Take it all." She thought that maybe putting up a brave front would scare him off. However he didn't say a word. He simply tilted his head to one side and gave her a look that let her know that he wasn't here for money. For a moment her eyes locked onto his and then the realization hit her. She knew those eyes. Not that she'd ever seen them before. But she knew the evil that lurked behind them. She had seen firsthand the twisted and sick things that that evil had perpetuated. Something more than fear took a hold of her body now. If she had had to put a name to it she'd say it was desperation.

He broke the eye contact and ran his eyes slowly down the length of her dripping wet body. She felt abused just by the glance alone. Then his eyes found hers again and his mouth slanted into a vicious smirk. She swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in her throat. She had to get out of here and fast before _she_ was the next victim on that autopsy table.

"I like the tattoo." His gravel voice hugged every word like slime on a slug. "It fits you." He liked his lips and tilted his head, "I wonder if you know how much it fits you." His eyes pierced almost through hers in an unnerving way.

Her hand automatically tried to cover the tattoo on her right thigh of the blue phoenix rising from the ashes. She had gotten the ink when her parents had died as a reminder that life must go on. Somehow her attacker talking about it felt like an intrusion into her very being. She didn't like it very much.

Her back was to the doors that led to the stairs that would bring her into the hub of the precinct. The sheet was the only thing blocking her way for a quick exit. If she could out run the Jumper she would be up the stairs and to safety in a flash. The only problem was that he was standing too close for her to get a good jump on him.

"What do you want?" She had to stall him somehow. Conversation was all she had going for her right now. If she could distract him enough maybe she could get herself underneath the sheet and on her way to the door before he could react. She took a slight step back as he contemplated his answer.

"I want to play the game." He said in a half growl half laugh. She wondered for a fraction of a second if his voice was always like that or if he was trying to disguise it. Maybe there had been some sort of injury to his vocal cords. "I've been waiting to play with you for a very, very long time, Lexie." He countered her half step back with a full step forward. Now his boot clad toes were up against her bare ones. She balled the useless sheet in her fists. "Waiting and watching." He pulled off the glove on his right hand then wound it in her hair roughly pulling her towards him. She tried to resist but he was stronger. She was like a rag doll as he yanked her against his chest. "Watching and waiting. I'm always there in your shadows watching you." He messaged her scalp and pulled her tight against his chest so that her feet came off of the ground. "Haven't you felt me there?" She wrestled in his grasp until he took his free hand and pressed a knife against her throat. Then she stilled her body trying to think of her next move while he inhaled the scent of her hair deeply, "So beautiful. So soft." He stuck out his tongue then licked her neck from just underneath her ear to her collarbone. The he bit her hard on her racing pulse point. She was sure to have his teeth marks left in his wake. She couldn't help the little whimper that escaped her lungs. "You will be my masterpiece, Lexie." He took one last long inhale of her hair then kissed the top of her head, "But not yet. Oh, no, it's not our time yet my lovely one." He placed her back down onto her feet in front of him, "But soon it will be our time again and you will be mine forever."

"Never." She hissed as she went to land a right kick to his knee. However he blocked her and chuckled at her failure.

"You always go to the right Lexie. Always have." He righted her as she slid on the slippery floor from her missed kick. "I really didn't want to come here and scare you tonight, my Lexie, but I'm afraid to say you can't go home tonight." He reached up to gently caress her cheek but she flinched away from him too quickly. " And I'm sorry for this my love."

She was so confused by what he was saying. Why was he talking as if he knew her? Like they had met before?

"What do you mean I can't go home? Sorry for what!"

He gave her a half smile, "For this." His right hand came up so fast she had no time to block the blow that he sent across her face. Her head snapped from the force of it. The rest of her body buckled and crumpled. Before her knees even touched the ground she was out like a light- lost in a sea of darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Wakey…Wakey." Lexie felt herself being shaken from the depths of her sleep. In her mind it was her mother rousing her for a day of school. She fought hard against the urge to open her eyes. In her dream state she cried out for five more minutes. But the words came out a muffled sound like something was caught in her throat. Then she felt the coarse material against her tongue.

She coughed against the obstruction that blocked her mouth and her eyes finally opened wide when she realized that she was gagged. Immediately she wished she hadn't for in front of her was her Jumper kneeling and watching her every move.

She went to strike him away from her but her arms were up in the air, extended over her head and they wouldn't move. She looked up and saw that he had hung a long chain from one of the exposed pipes in her autopsy room. Her hands were handcuffed around the chain. Even if she was Thor she couldn't break free from the hold.

Her right cheek still stung from the blow that she had received and the back of her head throbbed from where she must have hit the floor when she had fallen. Her throat was burning dry from the gag and her wrists burned from the pressure of holding up her limp body.

She tried to stand on her feet to take the pressure off of her wrists. That's when she realized that her ankles were also bound by chain. They were bound in such a way that her feet couldn't touch the floor. All she could do was hang there- helpless against her attacker.

"You're finally awake." He chuckled as she struggled against her constraints. "You've been out a long time. It's nearly morning now."

Morning! Good God what had he done with her all of that time while she had been out? Did she even want to know?

"Don't worry," the grit of his voice was thick with sarcasm, "I was a good boy. I didn't soil you if that's what you're thinking."

He got up from his feet then and came over to her. He stood there in front of her and stared deep into her eyes. "I'm saving you for the last. I wouldn't dream of touching you until I can fully enjoy myself." He tilted his head to the side and gave her a crooked smile, "Plus I'll need more time than this." He ran a sharp knife down her naked rib cage. Her muscles quivered as the steel bounced off every bone. Her cries silenced by the gag in her mouth.

When the knife got to just below her rib cage he flicked the blade carefully across her skin. The sharp pain from the cut made her rear up in her restraints but she couldn't get away. The entire time he never took his eyes away from hers. They bore straight into hers. It was the lack of any emotion at all in them that really sent her heart racing in fear.

"It's just a little scratch." He looked down at where he had cut her, "I wouldn't want to leave a scar. But I need just a little blood from you." The Jumper took his ungloved hand and smeared her blood onto his fingers. Then he brought his eyes back up to hers and licked the blood off, "Hmmm," He hummed deep in his throat, "you taste delicious. I always knew you would."

He gathered more of her blood on his fingers then went behind her to where she couldn't see him. She tried twisting around in her irons to see what he was doing but couldn't quite get around enough to do so. Every now and again when he needed more blood he would come back and swipe his fingers against her wound. When he was finally done he came back in front of her and gave her his famous tilted head dead stare again.

"I did all of this for you, you know. You'll thank me for this one day. Once you realize what could have happened you'll see having your first date with me wasn't so bad after all." First date? If this was his idea of a first date, she really didn't to find out his plans for a second one. "Well I really must be going now." He reached up and gently massaged her puffy cheek, "But don't worry you'll be seeing me soon enough. But until then I'll keep in touch in my own way."

Then he simply left. He left out the back door the same way that he had broken in. Quiet and undetected. Plus he had left her alive. Granted she was naked and chained up…but she was alive! She tried to get a grip on what had transpired through this horrible night. Tried to remember the exact color of his eyes but she found that her head simply couldn't focus. It was just too much to take. Or perhaps she had a concussion from her fall. Either way it was easier to slip back into unconsciousness than to figure everything out. So that is what she did.

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"Get much sleep last night, sir?"

Foyle regarded Sam through his blood shot eyes. She looked about as haggard as he felt. "'Bout as much as you I suppose, Sam."

Sam gave him a big toothy grin before looking down at his foyer floor, "I think it's downright rude that Gerry feels the need to keep us up all night, don't you sir?"

"Quite." He replied while grabbing his hat off of the stand.

"Midnight raids!" She exclaimed in half outrageousness. "If it's not the bombs that get you it's the sleep deprivation."

"Too true," Foyle agreed as he opened his front door and walked out into the fresh morning air. The sun was out and bright today. He always found that odd. A bright and sunny morning after a night spent in a bomb shelter buried in his back yard. How could the sun be out after such a dark and heinous night?

He looked up and down his street under the brim of his hat as he got into the car. All looked untouched by last night's events.

"Any news on what was hit last night?" He asked Sam as she took her seat behind the wheel.

"Don't really know, sir." She fired up the engine and forced it into gear. "I know I had to go around St Michaels. There was a blockade up. I guess they must have gotten a prezzie from the Gerry's."

The hair on the back of Foyle's neck stood on end.

"St Michaels? Isn't that where Dr. Greene's flat is?"

Sam had been approaching a stop when he had raised the question. Her foot slammed a little harder on the brake pedal than usual sending Foyle towards the dashboard. "Oh goodness! I didn't even think of it when I went by!" She looked at him with wide eyes. "Should we have a look, sir?"

Foyle scrunched his mouth up into an upside down frown. As if he was contemplating what to have for dinner he tilted his head back and forth. "Mmmight be a good idea."

He looked out the window and tried to focus on the landscape as it went by instead of the ball of fear that was curled up in is belly. Couldn't have been her place, could it?

Within minutes his worse fears were proven true. He and Sam were now standing knee deep in the rubble that had once been Dr. Green's home. The firemen had just put out the remains of the fire when they had gotten there.

Two empty Ambulance busses were lined up on the street. Foyle approached the nearest one.

"Have they taken anyone from here?"

The driver was busy refilling his coffee cup from his thermos and turned around in annoyance at having spilled some.

"Dammit," the driver cursed as he wiped the liquid from his pants. Then he regarded Foyle with agitated eyes. "Well that's a fine how do ya do."

Foyle rolled his eyes fighting the urge to box the bloke's ears. "Sorry." Even to him the apology didn't sound sincere. "I'm a police officer and I'm wondering…."

"What are you going to do? Arrest Gerry for murder?"

"Murder?" Sam questioned before Foyle could, "Someone's been killed then by the bombs?"

"I'd say," the driver looked Sam up and down, "an old couple from the house on the right. Found them in their beds. Probably never even heard the sirens."

"And what about the house on the left? Any fatalities there?" Foyle looked at both houses. Christ the house of the old couple for the most part was still intact. Alexa's house was nothing more than a pile of bricks. No one could have survived that. Hopefully they had heard the sirens and went to the shelter.

"One girl was badly injured and another dead when we got here. And one's missing. They're combing for her now." The driver looked over at the rubble, "Don't suppose there's much left to her by the looks of it. The landlady is the only one that got out. She said the bomb hit even before the sirens went off."

Foyle's mouth was too dry to speak. Thankfully Sam came to his rescue.

"And where is the landlady now? We need to speak with her."

The driver hitched his thumb behind him, "At the neighbor's house having a drink. Hell, I told her she should have a pint for me too…all this nonsense and for what?" The driver kicked one of the broken bricks that littered the street in front of them then threw his hands into his pockets slumping back to his ambulance.

Chomping on his bottom lip Foyle surveyed the destruction around them once more. They had one chance out of three that Greene was still alive. He felt as if the odds were stacked against them.

"Do you think…"

Foyle cut Sam off before she could pose the rest of her question. "Don't know, Sam. Don't know." He motioned for her to follow him to the neighbor's house.

They found Dr. Greene's landlady sitting at her neighbor's kitchen table. Her chubby hands wrapped around a snifter of whiskey. Her salt and pepper black hair was a tangled mess across her face and it glistened with ash from the exploding bricks that she had escaped from.

He took his hat off as he approached her and gave her the most sympathetic look he could muster as his mind continued to whirl with worry, "I'm Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle," he introduced himself. However the landlady's eyes stayed focused on an object somewhere over his shoulder. "Alexa Greene…"

"Lexie," the landlady interjected. "Have they found her?" Foyle's heart sank through his stomach past his feet and embedded itself somewhere in the basement of the dwelling he was standing in. So she was the one that was missing and buried somewhere in the smoky ruins outside. His body sank into the vacant chair next to the landlady.

"No!" Sam wailed. Foyle knew that it was meant to be a plea for he too was shouting no, no, no in his head. The landlady however took it to mean something else.

"She hasn't been found then?"

"Ahhh…no." Foyle answered, "Not yet." Desperation took a hold of him. This couldn't be happening. "Is there any possible way she could have gotten out before the bomb hit? Maybe you just didn't see her."

The landlady took a long sip of the whiskey. From where he sat it looked like the most thirst quenching drink ever. If he wasn't on duty he would have asked for a tall glass for himself.

"No, I didn't see her get out. But I also didn't see her come home. The bomb hit just before one. I had been up until about a half an hour before that."

Foyle found a glimmer of hope through the darkness, "And she hadn't been home yet?"

"Well, no, but I'm sure I heard her when I went into the bathroom right before I turned out the house lights. That's why I turned them off, I was sure I heard the door open and close. That's why I thought she had been home."

"Did she often stay out all night? Maybe she has a beau." Sam questioned the landlady. Foyle's saucer sized eyes regarded Sam. _Stay out all night with a beau_! Ahh Sam please don't make me regret talking your father into letting you stay here!

"Heavens no!" The landlady placed her hand over her heart. "Lexie was a good girl, she was. Maybe a little unconventional at times, but a good girl. She'd never stay out all night with a man."

"Other than hearing what you think may have been her entrance, is there any other evidence that might lead you to believe that she was in fact home when the bomb hit?"

Foyle sat in hopeful impatience as the landlady pondered the question. Finally a light came on and she exclaimed, "Her car! She always parked her car on the east corner." It was really beginning to annoy Foyle that she kept referring to Dr. Greene in the past tense.

The landlady threw her hands onto her thick knees and with some effort lifted herself from the wooden seat. Going to the window she pulled the curtain back, "It's not there. Her car isn't there. She never came home last night!"

Thank you Lord, Foyle rejoiced in his head. Now he just had to figure out where she had gone to.

Thanking the landlady for her time he grabbed Sam by the elbow and pushed her out of the house. They needed to get back to the station house as soon as possible. He was hoping that he would find the missing Dr. Greene elbow deep in a body down in her autopsy room when he got there.

With very little urging on his part, Sam raced through the streets to the precinct. When they got there he jumped out of the car beating Sam to the door. Sergeant Rivers was filing some paperwork behind the main desk.

"Rivers," he began as he continued to walk past the desk towards the basement stairs, "Did you see Dr. Greene come in this morning?"

"Why no, sir." The door to the basement stairs swung shut behind him as Rivers' answer cut down his hopes. She _had_ to be there. He wasn't going to believe for one instant that she wasn't here.

When he finally reached the morgues' swinging doors he flung them open as hard as he could. Rushing through the doors his feet came to an abrupt halt and froze in place as his eyes took in the sight that was laid out before him.

There hanging from the ceiling posed like Christ on the crucifix was Dr. Greene, her lifeless naked body swinging slightly in the chains that bound her. Behind her on the wall written in what he assumed was her blood was the word MINE with a strange symbol above it. It looked like a sideways number 8.

The air whooshed out of his lungs just as Sam's body crashed into the back of his. She let out a scream at the sight in front of them. Grabbing Sam by her shoulders he turned her away from the horrific scene.

"Get Milner!" He demanded as he pushed her out into the hall. "And call for a bus."

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"Her injuries are not life threatening." The doctor informed Foyle as they stood just outside of the privacy curtains. "She has a mild concussion. The cut on her abdomen only required two stitches to close. The one on her cheek just a butterfly suture. Her left shoulder is marginally separated due to the position that she was in, however it should heal within a week or two. She does have mild hypothermia though due to the exposure…"

Foyle cut him off. He didn't want to ask the most prevalent question in his head, but he _had_ to know, "Was she abused?" The thought was so revolting to him that he couldn't even say the word.

"You mean in an intimate way?" Foyle bit his lip and nodded his head not meeting the Doctor's eyes, "No, I see no signs of that." The breath that he didn't realize he had been holding finally released from his lungs in a long sigh. Well at least there was that. "She'll need to stay at least for tonight. We're working on getting her temperature back up to normal."

"May I speak with her?" She had been unconscious when they had cut her down from the ceiling back at the precinct. He had thought she was dead at first. He didn't actually believe his fingers when they felt her pulse beating beneath them. For the second time in one day he had thought he had lost her and for the second time she had cheated death.

The Doctor looked over her chart then back to him, "Only for a moment, she needs her rest."

"Rrright."

The Doctor left to take care of other patients while Foyle gathered up some strength outside of the curtains. He didn't want to have to put her through this but it was his job to find out who had done this to her and catch him. And when he did, so help him God, he was going to kill him.

He expected to find her lying on the hospital cot exhausted from her ordeal. What he found however once he came around the partition was Dr. Greene out of bed and searching the drawers to her little night table.

"What do you think you are doing?" He asked as she continued to rummage through the drawers.

She turned around in annoyance at him. "Looking for some clothes, I want to go home now."

He scratched at the top of his hair line. Of course she wasn't going to be a submissive patient. Why did he ever think she would have been?

"Get back into the bed, Greene, the doctor says you have to stay for at least tonight."

She gathered up the hem of the long hospital dressing gown around her knees. High enough so that if she had to run past him in order to get out she'd have no resistance. He could see the tail end of the quizzical tattoo on her thigh peeking out at him. He had actually never met a woman that had a tattoo before. The landlady had been spot on when she had called Alexa Greene unconventional.

He cocked his jaw to the side as far as it could go without popping out of place. Then he cut his eyes into the narrowest slits possible. He wasn't a tall man—most of his contemporaries towered over him and quite a few ladies too. Dr. Greene, however, in heels was still an inch or two shorter than him. Since she was now barefoot he was a good head taller than her. He used this to his advantage. He came up close to her and towered over her slight frame.

"I may be an old man of fifty-four, but I'm fairly certain that I can still out run you."

Her defiant emerald eyes locked onto his. In his peripheral vision he could see the bite-mark bruise that discolored her neck. His left fist automatically balled up in rage while his right hand reached out and stroked the tender skin.

His act of kindness set off some unintentional flood gate in Dr. Greene. The dam of tears that he suspected she had been holding back throughout this entire ordeal released in sudden abandon. Her shoulders began to quiver and shake while strangled sobs racked her weak body.

He was quite unsure as to what to do. So he simply did the only thing that came to mind. He gathered her in his arms and pulled her close into him. He stroked and soothed her, the best he could, while she cried for all she was worth.

When she was done he gently laid her back down on the bed and covered her with the blanket. Then he perched himself on the edge next to her and smoothed the loose golden strawberry hairs away from her face. He rubbed his fingers across the smattering of freckles that peppered her nose and under her eyes.

"I never noticed your freckles before." He whispered.

To his relief she laughed a little at his revelation. "That's because I cover them with make-up." She took the handkerchief that he offered her and balled it up in her hands and dabbed slightly at her eyes. A look of complete consternation set deep into the bright green pools before she revealed her next statement.

"I'm not a victim." He was sure that she had meant for it to come out as a matter of fact statement but it sounded more like a question to him.

"Well…yyou…of course nnot."

"This wasn't supposed to happen to me. I'm trained, you see, to get out of situations like this. I thought I was stronger…I thought…" She looked away and sought out the white wall of the hospital looking for her answer. "I thought I was safe."

"You are safe now." He took one of her hands and rubbed over the bandage that covered her raw wrist. In more ways than one, he thought to himself. For if she hadn't been taken captive last night and chained to the ceiling of the morgue, she would have been lying on a cot in it for sure. The bomb that had destroyed her home had hit her room head on. In a way, what had happened to her last night had saved her life.

As she drifted off into sleep he wondered if there was something more to that than he could see.

_A/N Hope this wasn't too graphic for you all. Read and review! _


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Stuck and cut off. Those were the only words that kept going through Lexie's mind as she sat among the ruin of her destroyed home. Her feet ground into the brick dust of what was once the retaining wall of her bedroom, the very same wall that she had cut a hole into and had hidden her Zapper as well as her Agency communications device. She suspected those two items were now pieces of scrap littering the ground with the rest of the ruins.

She turned on the torch that she had stolen from the hospital supply closest when she had escaped and searched the area. Half of the wall was still erect, though charred from the fire. To her relief it was the part of the wall that held her precious devices. When she found the hole she reached in and let out a sigh of relief as her fingers settled around the canvas material of her case. However her victory was short lived after she pulled it out and found the bag to be half burned. Its singed remains fell out of a burn hole onto the ground at her feet, the melted and badly destroyed Zapper laid useless next to its counterpart, her phone. At this point they were simply balls of melted plastic and metal. Wonderful. Her service weapon, however, seemed to have survived the fire. Though the bullets had all discharged she imagined due to the heat. So it was basically useless to her.

With little hope left she searched the area for her old mattress. She found it a half a block away piled up on the lawn of a neighbor's house with a few other remnants of the old house that were somewhat salvageable. She flipped the mattress over and stuck her hand in where she had cut a whole. This time she didn't let out a cry of relief…less she get her hopes up again…as her fingers found what they were looking for. Though she did shed a few tears as she pulled her perfectly preserved IPad and charger out of the undercarriage of the mattress. Well, she thought, she may not be able to get home, but at least she still had all of her notes on the case. That was something, wasn't it?

She stopped short on her last selfish thought as the torch light found Dawn's old mattress. Or what was left of it. As of now it was nothing more than frame work and springs. Poor Dawn. She was only 20 years old and had been engaged to her man who was off fighting the war in Africa. Dawn was gone and poor Maggie probably wouldn't make it through the night. And here she was sulking because her devices had been ruined. How could she be so self-centered? At least she was still alive.

She thought back to the last thing that the Jumper had said before he had left her. _"You'll thank me for this one day."_ Had he known all along that her house was going to be bombed? Had he done all of that last night simply to save her life? And if so, then why, she wondered as she gathered up what was left of her devices and headed off to the Holy Trinity Church.

Moreover, if he had known that her house was going to be bombed then that meant that he had jumped from this time back to their time. There was no way to know the future unless you were in the future looking at the past. And if he had indeed jumped back home then the Agency had to have known it. The network monitored all time travel. Any disturbance would have been noted. Yet they had never told her. Why wouldn't they tell her?

Unless, of course, he had a partner, perhaps he could have someone on the other side feeding him information. Although that didn't fit the profile, the Jumper had always worked alone. In any case these were all questions that she couldn't answer tonight. Her head was still throbbing, her feet were now cut from the glass that had went through the thin slippers she had taken with her from the hospital and her body was still shaking from the adrenaline rush from her ordeal.

As quickly as she could she found the Holy Trinity Church and its old cemetery. In the third road of disorderly stones she found Fox W Mulder and searched the base for the hidden compartment. She tapped the button and the drawer slid open. Having no paper to scribble the note on she took her damaged Zapper and phone and stuck it in the compartment. Hopefully, Ms. Pierce would know exactly what it meant and contact Charlie for her. It was Lexie's only hope.

Now she just needed to find herself a place to sleep the rest of the night away that wasn't the hospital. She hated those places. There was no way she was going back there. Her main option of course was the morgue. But after last night she didn't quite feel up to facing that place just yet. Not in the middle of the night at least. It would be best to wait for day light for that.

The closest place from here would be Milner's place. The thought of his wife however, set her feet going in the opposite direction. There was really only one place left to hide out for the night. She only hoped the Overlord would welcome her sudden appearance on his doorstep. She admonished herself in her head. She really should stop calling him that after all that he had done for her today. The way he had held her when she had lost it…well…she would never forget the sense of safety those arms had offered her. Maybe that was really what set her going in his direction. She just wanted to feel safe again and not so alone.

When she finally reached his doorstep, she found, that her bravado had dissipated a few blocks back. From the slant of the moon she figured it to be around two a.m. She reasoned with herself it just wasn't acceptable to wake someone out of a sound sleep at this ungodly hour. What to do, what to do? Well, what could she do? She surmised it was only right not to wake him up but to sneak in and simply find an empty bed or couch to sleep on for the night and then sneak out before he noticed in the morning. Really it was the right thing to do- funny how one can talk themselves into the most nonsensical things at two a.m.

She walked to the back of the block and found an adjacent yard that would lead her to Foyle's back yard. She quickly found his buried Anderson shelter. Inside she found a hidey hole for her IPad and service weapon. She would retrieve them in the morning and bring them to the morgue. For now though she would need her arms free to climb the tree that would take her into the house. She tucked her torch into the waistband of her intimates. She still had on the hospital nightgown. Where else could she hide it? They were about to become intimate in a way she really never intended.

Half way up the twisted oak she prayed that the window wouldn't be locked. She also prayed that it didn't open into Foyle's bedroom. Her final and more proficient prayer, though, was that her injured and separated shoulder would hold out just a fraction longer as she leaned from the oak and onto the windowsill. It sure was a long way down if it didn't.

With a grateful sigh she pushed the window open and ungracefully pushed herself up and over the sill. She crawled through and let her body slither onto the floor like a caterpillar trying to escape a stomping foot, fast and furious. With the blackout in effect she could hardly make out that she was in a bedroom. Thankfully, it was an empty bedroom, must be Andrews she guessed. It held the stale smell of a seldom used room.

She should have simply settled into the bed right then and there, however, she was in need desperately of the facilities. She could feel a piece of glass burrowed deep into the sole of her foot and she needed to get it out. Carefully, she opened the door to the bedroom. Taking the torch out of her shorts she shined the light momentarily in the hall just to get her bearings.

Two feet to the left there was another closed door. Three feet from that on the right an open one which must have been for the loo and down the hall the darkness swallowed the light. She figured that was the top of the staircase. She shut the light off and made her way out of the room. She went to pass the closed door figuring it was Foyle's bedroom. Curiosity got the better of her and she simply had to peek in to make sure he was actually in his bed where he should be. She cracked the door open slightly. She poked her head in and gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the light. When they did they found Foyle's bed to be empty. The covers were thrown into a pile leaving a gaping hole where his sleeping body had once lain. His pajamas were strewn on the floor where he must have thrown them after dressing in a hurry. At least by the look of the half opened drawers she figured he must have been in a rush to get dressed and out the door. For Foyle would never leave this sort of disarray in his wake on purpose.

With a quick search of the rest of the house she found that Foyle was nowhere in sight. Must have gotten a call out in the middle of the night, she thought. That meant she'd have work in store for her tomorrow. Since the only thing she could think of to get Foyle out of the house at this hour was a body. She only hoped they were carefully preserving the body for her and not contaminating any evidence.

She made her way back upstairs and turned on the light. No need to worry now about being discovered. A body would keep Foyle out for most of the night, if he even came back at all. She looked at her haggard self in the mirror. Her long strawberry blonde girls were tangled around her shoulder. She hated her hair long. At home she always kept it cut short. Here, however, she had to fit in and be like all of the other women of the time. Long hair pinned up, dresses and skirts all prim and proper. A sudden feeling rushed through her. She couldn't play this game anymore without being herself. Alexa had to go and Lexie had to be resurrected. It was the only way she could survive.

She searched Foyle's medicine chest. She found his scissors half way through bottles of acid reducer and packets of aspirin. She gave Alexa one last long look in the mirror then began to hack away at the curls. They fell in long spirals into the sink basin. As each one met their demise she felt more and more like herself again.

When she was done she took another long look in the mirror. The hardness of her eyes scared even her own heart. She was almost back to her own self, but something still lacked within her. She needed something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Something to make the feeling inside her disappear. The filth she felt whenever she thought of _his_ hand on her. The wanted the internal cringes to go away while she stared at the mark that _he _had left on her neck.

She cleaned up her mess at the sink then removed the large glass shard from her foot. She wiped up the bloody mess her foot left on the floor and with still no sign of Foyle's return helped herself to a shower. When she was done she sat on the toilet and wrapped her foot in a bandage and was in the process of wrapping a towel around her naked body when Foyle himself crashed through the bathroom door wielding a police baton over his head and at her general direction.

His arm froze mid-air before he could smack her in the head with the baton as his eyes took in her naked body for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. For her movements had also froze as she held the towel across her back, her arms stretched out and fanning the towel out like the wings of a butterfly.

"What in the bloody Hell?" He exclaimed overtop of her outburst of Jesus Christ. She quickly finished wrapping the towel around herself as he continued to stare with mouth agape.

"My goodness, sir," She quickly recovered. "I didn't think you would try and take my head off for borrowing a shower." She quickly realized her wit was no match for his level of annoyance at this particular moment.

He was rattled she could tell, there was no mistaking that. Yet even rattled he could still out match her tit for tat.

"Nnno, I ummm wouldn't smash you for that. Perhaps though I will," for the first time since Lexie had known him Foyle's voice took on a form she had never heard from him before. It was loud and it echoed off the walls of the small bathroom, "for keeping me out half the night looking for you! Ssssick with worry." He came up close to her then, his free hand that didn't have the death grip on the baton raised in the air. He wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her he was so relieved to see her or smack the stupidity out of her. Either way, he knew he couldn't do either so he simply threw the baton against the tile floor and turned out of the room and away from her before he did something he would later regret. "Christ almighty!"

Lexie stood motionless for a moment. After what felt like an eternity she followed his retreated path down the stairs. She froze midway down as she listened to the last of his phone call to the precinct informing the sergeant that he had found her and would the sergeant please pass the news on to Sam and Milner. When he went into his parlor she reluctantly followed him there where she watched from the doorway as he poured himself a glass of bourbon.

His stone silence and any avoidance of eye contact forced a stumbled apology from her.

"I didn't know. I didn't think…"

He slammed the glass down on the small table. "No, you're right, you didn't think." He came up close to her again, his advancing form forcing her to back up against the wall as he invaded her space. From what little light there was in the room she could barely make out his eyes they were cut into such sharp fine lines. "Utterly irresponsible and selfish of you. We thought…I thought that he had…taken you…" He faltered on his last words and bit his bottom lip so hard Lexie was afraid that he'd draw blood from biting back his final thought. Out of instinct she reached for him and rubbed his lips with the pad of her thumb hoping to get him to relieve some of the tension there.

"Christopher…" She whispered his given name for the first time ever. Up until this moment he had always been Foyle or Detective Chief Superintendent. His eyes snapped up hard at hers while his hand grabbed hers away from his face and pinned it against the wall. She cried out from the pain that his grip caused her raw wrist.

"Don't." He hissed. It was more of a threat than a command. And in that moment she realized just what it was that she needed in order to feel whole again. Her tight muscles grew more rigid with each panted breath he took while he continued to hold her threateningly against the wall. Urgent desire filled her as the air around them became more and more electrically charged. She needed this.

Release.

That is what she craved. She needed to lose control in order find control again. She could hear her own labored breathing mirrored his. Just a little prodding from her and she knew she could get him to relinquish his restraints. He would never do this on his own. He was too much a gentleman. And a slave to the morality he carried within him.

Truth be told that was alright with her. She needed to be in charge right now.

She wrenched the hand that he held against the wall free. For the other one was busy still clutching the towel closed around her and wound her arm around his neck. Before he could even recoil she laced her fingers into the soft curls at the base of his neck and brought his face crashing down to hers. She found his lips in the darkness and skipping several steps of their first kiss she got right down to business. She didn't need tender and sweet. She needed passion, heat, and utter abandon. She licked the outer shell of his lips open and fought her way straight into the warmth of his mouth.

To her surprise he didn't resist. Instead tongues dueled as the weeks of pent up tension that she tried so hard to ignore ignited in her belly. The fire threatened to consume her as his mouth worked illicit moans from her that generated from her very core. When they ran out of breath he broke the kiss only to lick and suckle along her neck while he whispered in her ear.

"My God, what are you doing to me?" He took the hand that wasn't wrapped into her newly shorn short curls and found her hip through the material of the towel. Then he pulled her into him so she could feel his arousal against her stomach. The feel of it set off a volcano of need in her. She wanted him…now!

"But we can't do this." His guilt filled admission almost destroyed her.

He pulled back to look into her eyes. "Iiiit's wrong." He stroked her bruised cheek. "You've been through so much. This is the last thing you need right now." Releasing her he began to back away. The passion that had just burned through Lexie was quickly becoming rage. How could he walk away from this? And why would he think she would even let him?

Lexie dropped the towel from her body. "You're right; I've been through a lot. But don't tell me what I need or what I don't need. Cause right now I only need one thing." He began to take baby steps away from her but she wasn't about to let him get away. She backed him up until he hit the edge of the sofa. "I need you to make me forget." She took his hand and placed it against her stomach. "Touch me…feel me…" She pulled his hand until it reached the soft curls between her legs, "make me yours." She pressed her naked self against him. "Make me forget his hands on me."

A strangled moaned escaped his lips. "Heaven help me." He prayed as he felt the last remaining strand of his resolve tear away. His hands and body reacted without rational thought. Soon he was encompassing her, running his hands up and down her smooth skin relishing in the fact that she was here and in his arms.

She was flesh and bone.

Safe and sound after the harrowing night he just spent searching for her once he had gotten the frantic phone call from the hospital that she had gone missing. Hours spent thinking for the third time in not a day's period that she was dead or hurt somewhere and he was powerless to help her.

Now here she was in his parlor and moaning his name as his fingers stroked her. The animal in him craved for her release by his hands. His hunger driving him mad with each gasp and moan she made as he readied her body for his attack.

For this was not love making in any sense of the word. It was gritty, hard and brutal. Lust, heat and desire burned in a rage of fire as their bodies and minds fought for dominance over the other. She would push and he would pull, yet always mindful of her wounds and careful not to hurt her further. She licked and bit his skin and when it became too much he turned her around and pushed her stomach against the edge of the back of the couch trying to stop her incessant grinding that threatened to end it before it began.

Holding her steady with a bracing hand to the center of her back he used his other to free himself of his trousers and shorts. Once he had kicked them off he bent her over the back of the sofa while nudging her legs apart. Part of him admonishing himself for taking her this way, for he knew it was wrong. He had never in his life treated a woman this way. Even knowing this, he still couldn't stop himself. If he didn't have her now the fire in is belly threatened to burst into an inferno that would destroy him from the inside out.

Without permission and giving her no warning he buried himself deep within her. His load moan of pleasure almost drowned out her sharp cry of pain.

Almost.

"Sorry." He apologized into her ear. "I thought you were ready." He leaned down low and rested against her back not moving and gave her a chance to acclimate to his invasion.

"It's okay." She tried to make it sound light but he could hear the discomfort in her voice. He began to ease out of her but she was having none of that and thrust against him. The sensation made them both cry out to God. "It's been a while and I think you're a little bigger than…" She didn't want to say her late husband's name as another man took his place inside of her for the first time.

Just didn't seem right.

No, she told herself. This wasn't like her and James at all. No comparison, she reasoned. She and James made love. This wasn't making love. It was just filling a need for release and nothing more. She thrust against Foyle twice more to make sure he was on the same page as her. This was NOT making love and he needed to understand that. Tomorrow life would go on as usual. Like this never happened.

Foyle braced her against the couch again stopping her from setting the rhythm.

"It's been much longer for me, I can guarantee you that. If you keep that up it'll be over far too soon." He slid his hands lovingly along the lines of her back while he set a new and much slower rhythm. "Slow down." His care for her well being showed with every careful thrust he made. She could feel it all the way up and into her heart. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

This is NOT what she wanted. How did they go from reckless abandon to tender and sweet so fast? And why was her body beginning to hum from the effects he was having on her? It was more than sex now, it was connection. And it scared her more than last night's events. She had to stop this now.

She tried to force him to go faster again. And yet again he stopped her from taking control. This time though he stood her up straight so that her backside rested against the front of him while he still remained inside of her. Then he locked his arms around her front and caressed her breasts in a methodical fashion that threatened to send her over the edge. From this vantage point she couldn't move a muscle. He was in complete control.

While he rocked her up and over the edge to sweet release he held her tight and whispered words of encouragement in her ear while he suckled on the outer lobe.

"Come for me." He begged increasing the rhythm every time he felt her body tighten. "I've got you."

Still she held back. It was too personal. This definitely wasn't the release she was looking for. "Not like this." She begged. "I can't."

With one hand he turned her head and found her lips while his other hand traveled back down. Skimming tenderly past her stitches, forever mindful of every wound her body had received yesterday; he found her little bundle of nerves that he knew would send her over the edge with him. Lovingly he stroked her there and kissed her mouth, swallowing her cries as she finally gave in to him and let her body fall over the edge.

When he couldn't hold out any longer he pushed her back down against the couch. Without restraint he slammed mercilessly into her broken body. To his selfish delight he brought her back to oblivion. Together they flew over the final cliff.

He wondered, as he rested against her slacken back, what would happen once they reached the bottom of the cliff.

Thanks to Alexa he didn't have to ponder for very long. She stood up, basically pushing him off of her. He graciously backed away allowing her the room she needed to find her lost towel. She picked it up off of the floor and wrapped it back around her body.

He was still in his shirt. He pulled the material lower so that it covered him. At least his modesty hadn't been lost yet.

Without making eye contact with him she began, "This didn't mean anything. I hope you know that." She turned and angled herself towards the opening of the hall that led to his stairs, "It was just a means to an end."

"Rrrright." It was the only reply he could think of.

He watched her retreating form head up his stairs.

Bloody hell. What had he done?

_**A/N notes…I hope you like it. I tried to keep it more on a pg-13 level. I don't know if I succeeded or not. I'm not going to change it to mature though. I grappled over the idea of having them come together so early in the story. I could have built the tension up some more, but I think by having them have this hang between them it will add to the tension in a better way. At least I hope. Plus it works into the story line better and will bring Foyle into the Jumpers bad graces. I'm thinking he's not going to like this new connection between Foyle and Alexa very much. Any way let me know what you think. Even if you hated it, don't hesitate to tell me you think I just spoiled the story. I'm actually beginning to worry myself if I jumped the gun a little. **_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The following morning, thank goodness, was a Saturday. What little sleep he had obtained with what had been left of the night had been turbulent at best. As he slowly roused from his slumber, Foyle rubbed the sandy grit from his eyes that lack of rest had left in its wake.

It may have taken him a little longer to come to his senses, however, waking up in an unfamiliar environment quickly brought about the memories of last night's events. And the guilt along with it, as he brought his eyes to the vacant spot that had once held Alexa's sleeping form in Andrew's bed.

When he had come up the stairs last night, he had found her standing in the open doorway to Andrew's room staring into the darkness.

"Alexa?" He barely had dared to question.

Her simple reply still stung in his ears, "I'm cold." Even in the dark of the blackout he could make out her shivering under her damp towel. Remembering what the doctor had said about her temperature, he found an old sweatshirt of Andrews in the closet. She had put it on and then climbed under the summer covers.

When he had went to leave the room once she was settled he was stopped at the door by her final statement of the night.

"Foyle," He had turned in time to see her hold the covers up inviting him into her bed. "I'm cold." She had then rolled over onto her side facing the opposite wall as he had taken his place behind her. Then she had pushed back against him so that they were spooned together.

Now he sat on the edge of the bed scratching at his temple while berating himself. How the hell did he let it get so out of hand last night? He had never in his life lost control like that. Never! Not even when he was a hormonal teen had he ever let his desire get the best of him.

Desire? Had he desired her?

Yes, he wasn't going to deny it. There had been times while they had argued down in the medical office these past few months where he had wanted nothing more than to push her against the nearest wall and ravish her. And it had scared him to the bone.

He had marked it all up to being a man in simple need of sexual release. As Andrew had so graciously pointed out to him at around the same time as his attraction began, eight years was an eternity. So he had avoided being alone with her at all costs. He would never be the one that let his defenses down and give in to lust—until last night that is.

But she had pushed him, he reasoned with himself. Didn't matter his conscience threw back. You're older, you're her superior, and the girl wasn't in her right mind. Anyone would think that you took advantage of that. He looked at himself in the washroom mirror.

"Too true." He agreed with his conscience. There was no arguing about it. He had to apologize for his behavior last night. He would have to eat some crow before his guilt ate him from the inside out.

He found her down in his kitchen standing at the counter making a cup of coffee. His own body betrayed the reinforced boundaries he had just put back into place when his stomach did a little flop and his mouth sucked in air while his eyes took in the sight of her.

She was still in Andrew's sweatshirt. It hung just past her hips. On her bottom she wore only a pair of Andrew's boxers. They were rolled down in a way, he guessed, to make them stay up on her slender hips. By rolling them in such a way the boxers were now high on her thighs and offered Foyle the full view of her very shapely legs. Once again his eyes were drawn to the fire bird tattoo that adorned her one leg. Why was it he found that damn thing so intriguing? And why did it seem that the eyes of the bird seemed to mock him as he stood there ogling?

"It's a phoenix rising from the ashes." Dammit Foyle, he admonished himself, she's caught you staring. Not the best way to start a formal apology.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" She questioned him when he didn't move from the doorway into the kitchen.

"Ummm, no." He motioned for her to take a seat at the table while he continued to formulate the best way to broach what was on his mind. "No thank you."

She took a seat at his kitchen table crooking one leg under her bottom while she let the other one hang to the floor. Now the opening of the pants offered more of an intimate view.

Christ, how was he going to get through this apology when he was about to make a fool of himself once more? Did she not realize what she was doing to him?

"Jeez, Foyle," Alexa began. She couldn't stand seeing him standing there in his doorway looking lost. "Take a seat would ya? You're making me nervous." She pushed out the chair that was closest to him with her foot. "You look white as a ghost."

Take it easy on him Alexa, she told herself. You did this to him and now you've got to make it right, she reminded herself. How she was going to do that, she didn't know as she sipped her coffee and he gingerly placed himself into the chair while scratching at his forehead. She supposed she should start with an apology. She had used him and it was wrong. And though she felt bad about it, she wouldn't exactly say that she was sorry. He had made her feel so safe and she had needed that. True it was selfish of her, but even now sitting with him across the table from her, she wanted nothing more than to feel his arms around her again. Dammit, Lexie, she yelled at herself. No. You can't keep doing that to him.

He deserves better than that and you know it! He's a good man, probably one of the best she had ever met.

"Look Foyle, what happened last night…," she choked on her apology when his head snapped back a little at the mention of last night's events. Perhaps that's why her next words came out a jumbled mess and completely wrong, "well, the way I see it, we were just two people in need of release. I mean, it was just sex and ahhh… nothing more." She had added that part more for her benefit than his. "I was a little disturbed from yesterday's events and I needed a…well let's say a ..a…a…distraction. And well, you said it had been quite a while for you." She began talking so fast that she couldn't match her thoughts to what she was saying. She was sure he was just as lost as she was as she continued to ramble on, "And with all of this nonsense going on with Andrew being incarcerated and a break- in in your own precinct it's no wonder you…well you know, so…" she had talked herself into such a circle she wasn't exactly sure how to end it so she simply threw in, "it was just sex. We both got what we needed out of it. And we'll just have to move on from here."

He sat across the table regarding her with those blue steel eyes. The cut of them was so sharp that she couldn't manage to look straight into them less she be torn to pieces. Instead she took in the lonely empty pot that sat on his stovetop waiting for its next use. Then the wallpaper that was in need of changing and counted his coffee mugs that lined the counter against the sink wall.

Finally when his silence became too much she demanded, "Would you say something?"

It wasn't until she dared to meet his gaze that he finally said, "Well, ummm, not sure what I'm supposed to say. It seems you ahhh…have it all figured out. One thing is perplexing me though…"

"What's that?"

"Am I supposed to leave you a tanner or are you to leave it for me?"

Her eyes grew wide at his insinuation. "That's not fair." She shot back in defense.

He gave her his little upside down frown while clucking his tongue, "No?" He tilted his head slightly to the side, "I think it's quite fair given the circumstances." It wasn't quite the apology that he had set out to give, he reminded himself. But he'd be damned if he was going to let her chalk up what transpired between them to simple lustful needs. There was more to it than that and she knew it. He wasn't about to sit here and allow her to minimize it down to nothing.

He wasn't a complete hypocrite; he knew he had just tried to do the same thing upstairs. Somehow listening to her and watching her physically try to pull herself away from him had woken him up to the reality he hadn't wanted to face. He loved her.

He had thought he was scared before when he had simply _wanted_ her. Now -he was terrified. In defense his walls slammed shut. He just _couldn't_ love her. No it couldn't be.

"Foyle," she began again, "look, when this case is done and over, I'll return back to my own t…" she seemed to catch herself here and quickly changed what she was about to say, "ti—home." My God, she had almost said time! He was getting to her and she didn't like how it felt. "And there will be more than just an ocean between us."

To her it looked like the nod of his head was in acceptance with what she was saying. However it was more of an agreement to the argument that was going on inside of his head that went something like…you can't love her…you don't love her…you _won't_ love her.

At some point she had gotten up and had begun pacing around his small kitchen.

"So you're in agreement with me?"

"What?" He had been so lost in his own thoughts that he had missed the last part of what she had said.

"That we should leave last night behind us and move forward from here. As colleagues and nothing more."

He chewed on his cheek while tapping his fingers on the table surface. She was offering him an out. A small part of him hesitated. While the other stubborn part of him wanted to know how he could not jump on the quick and very convenient way out of this mess that she was offering. In the end, his sentimentality won out. Whatever this was between them was simply not meant to be. It was best to leave it at that.

"Rrright. Business as usual, then."

"Exactly." She agreed.

He got up from the table and stood in front of her. Chewing on is cheek he said, "Well not quite as usual." Wonderment entered into her emerald eyes, "My colleagues don't usually dance around me half naked and," he tried to stop his last thought from falling off of his tongue but it was too late, "utterly tempting." He winced a little at his slip before recovering in his best D.C.S persona, "Would you mind putting some clothes on?"

Her cheeks flashed red. He wondered if it was the thought that she had been dressed inappropriately in front of him that had done it or if it was his confession that it hadn't gone unnoticed by him that had achieved the deepest shade of crimson he had ever seen.

"I would…but I don't have any." She finally said. That's when it hit him that her cheeks weren't red with embarrassment, but anger. And darn it if that didn't make his libido knot his stomach even more. Leaving this behind was going to be harder than he had originally thought.

Sometime later after riffling around the back of his closets for remnants of Rosalind's clothes, he made his way back down the stairs leaving her alone to dress in his bedroom. Glancing at his bottle of malt whiskey that beckoned him he checked the time on the mantle clock. Even in his half mad state he couldn't quite reconcile having a drink at ten-thirty in the morning.

Just then the sight of Alexa sitting on the edge of his bed leaning against her one good arm while he had searched for something for her to wear ran like a flicker across his mind. The way her bare legs had hung to the floor and the overly large sweatshirt had drooped revealing her cleavage while she had rambled on about how they were to move on from here tempted him in a way that he couldn't really describe.

One thing was for sure, he defiantly hadn't been thinking about moving on. Nope, that had been the furthest from his mind, as he had unconsciously licked his lips every time she had crossed and uncrossed those legs.

The hell with it! He poured himself a generous glass. The Lord would forgive him this transgression, for he too had been a man, had he not?

A man-he hadn't thought of himself in that particular sense of the word in years. It was odd to him for he had thought that he had shut the door on that aspect of his humanity once they had placed Rosalind into the ground. Shut the door? It was more like slammed it shut and barricaded it.

It seemed to him that Dr. Alexa Greene had opened some flood gate in him that he wasn't sure how to bottle back up. He looked into the amber liquid swirling around in his glass. Taking a long swig he hoped he would figure it out before the glass was empty and she came back down his stairs.

He needed some kind of divergent to get his mind off of her and back into his usual routine. As if on cue he heard the metal of the post slot on his front door creak open and then slam ominously shut. He looked at the mantle clock again. It was kind of early for the Saturday post.

On weary legs he got up from his chair and went into the front hall. Lying there on his foyer floor was a single envelope. The front of which was simply adorned with one word—FOYLE. The letters flowed across the paper like a threat. The familiarity of the writing struck him in the chest like a fist.

He recognized it immediately from the package that Alexa had received while they had been at lunch the other day. The very one that had held Alexa's dead husbands mummified finger. Placing his glass on the newel post, he reluctantly picked up the envelope from the floor. With trepidation he tore the seal apart. His head began to bang while he read the message.

_**I thought I had made it clear to you that she is mine. You have failed to listen.**_

_**Now you've had mine, so I will have yours. It only seems right.**_

_**Quid pro quo, Mr. Foyle**_.

He reached out for the post to gain his balance sending his glass of whiskey to the floor in the effort. Hitting the edge of the bottom stair the glass bounced off and then shattered against the slate floor. Hearing the noise Alexa came running down the stairs to see what the matter was.

"Christopher!" She exclaimed when she saw him leaning against the post as if in pain.

When she reached him he handed her the letter. After reading it she met him with terrified eyes.

It didn't take long for them to come to the same conclusion.

"Sam!" They both proclaimed before they exited his front door in a flash.

_**A/N…I know I'm cruel and evil leaving you with this cliffhanger. But how else can I ensure that you will read the next chapter(insert fake evil laugh here). Anyway I hope that I redeemed myself and Mr. Foyle as well. You all know he's a good man and by God I plan on keeping him one. Have no fear. He will turn out okay in the end. And not to worry, Sam shouldn't come out too worse for wear either. As usual please read and review. Reviews are like crack to this writer! **_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

In their haste to find Sam, Foyle and Alexa had left the house without formulating a plan on how to get to the station. Alexa's car was still parked there from Thursday which had been the day of her attack. Sam was Foyle's driver so his police issued car was wherever she had parked it last night after their desperate search for Alexa once it was learned she had escaped from the hospital.

About halfway down his block Foyle said, "We should go back and call for a car. There's no way we can get to her house by foot. This is wasting any time we have left to get to her before it's too late."

They turned around to go back up the block just in time to see a police cruiser pull up along the curb outside of Foyle's house.

Lexie's heart dropped from her chest.

"We're already too late." She said as they solemnly made their way back up the hill to greet the officer. Once they reached the stoop they stopped officer Hibbard mid-knock.

"Constable." Foyle surprised the young man from behind him.

"Oh sir," Lexie wasn't sure which surprised the young officer more, the fact that Foyle was standing behind him or the fact that she was with him. "I've been summoned to fetch ya. We've been trying to reach you all morning. Seems your phone line is down."

"It is?" Foyle looked to Alexa. Silently his eyes asked the very question that was running around in her head. Had someone cut the line?

"Yes sir," the constable answered coming down from the top step. "Dead as a door nail. The operator checked."

"Hmmm.." Foyle answered and then paused while waiting for the constable to tell them what he was doing there. When the young man didn't answer soon enough Foyle probed, "And you needed me?"

"Oh right, its Sam sir." Lexie could actually hear Foyle's jaw tighten even over the loud banging of her heart.

"What's happened?" Lexie asked when Foyle simply seemed too lost for words.

"Not sure, miss. The sergeant just told me I was to find DCS Foyle and bring him to Ms. Stewarts billet straight away."

Lexie watched as Foyle raised a shaking hand to rub at his forehead. He was as scared as she was. The one thing that bothered her the most was the fact that he was showing visible signs of it. Foyle never did that.

"Then I'd say we better go."

"Yes, miss." The constable obliged. Once the officer was turned around towards the car, Lexie took Foyle by the arm and led him to the passenger door. If Sam was indeed the Jumpers victim, how was she going to get Foyle through this?

Thinking about the past victims, the many reports she had read, the autopsies she had performed, she wondered if she would even get herself through it. Poor sweet innocent Sam, she should never know the horrors that the Jumper could inflict. Lexie swore if he so much as raised a finger to her-she couldn't even finish the thought as they pulled up to Sam's lodgings.

Using some unknown power, Lexie's legs managed to walk her to the door. As if in a dream she walked past the police cruiser that was already parked by the curb and past the Wolseley that was next to it. Foyle ambled up the walk behind her, his hands fisted into the pockets of his overcoat. She wondered if the same thought was going through his head as it was hers—that this was their entire fault. The Jumper was taking his anger out on Sam for something that they had done.

For whatever reason she went to knock on the door, instead of just opening it up to the flurry of police activity that she could hear going on behind it. Maybe subconsciously she just wanted that extra second of not knowing before being thrust into the horror that undoubtedly waited for her on the other side. However before her hand could even make contact with the wood, the door was flung open. Standing on the opposite side looking grim was Sam in mid-sentence.

"Oh thank goodness you're here!"

It took a minute for the fact that it was Sam standing in front of her still intact and unharmed to register in her brain. When it did, she let out a sequel of delight and gathered a very unsuspecting Sam into a hug.

"Sweet, sweet girl!" Lexie released her from the hug only to hold her out at arm's length to look her over thoroughly. Then she placed both hands on either of Sam's cheeks and gently rubbed them. "You're alright." She stated the obvious.

From behind her Lexie could hear Foyle whispering a sigh of relief under his breath. Sam was still in shock from Lexie's emotional attack that she didn't even hear it.

Of course Foyle being Foyle the crack in his outer shell didn't last long. He was back to normal business affairs before the final whisper was even cold off of his lips.

"What's happened Sam? Did someone attack you?" He swooshed past Lexie into the parlor of the house while giving Sam the once over with his eyes. Probably analyzing for himself that the girl was indeed unharmed.

"No, sir" Sam reassured them, "well, not exactly."

Foyle stopped in his tracks at her last statement and raised his eyebrows with intrigue.

"Someone broke in last night." Sam thrust her hands up in the air in disbelief. "They took Mrs. Harrison hostage." She began to pace in small circles around the parlor. It was at that point that Lexie realized that Sam was dressed in her uniform. The odd thing about that was that today was Saturday. Sam didn't work on Saturdays. Either Sam had forgotten what day of the week it was or she hadn't come home last night. "Barricaded the poor woman in her room. While they completely obliterated mine. Tore the whole place apart, they did."

Foyle had a sharper mind than Lexie. She surmised that he had figured out there was something out of the ordinary with Sam's attire the moment the girl had opened the door.

"I don't understand…" Lexie was sure there was more to Foyle's query but Sam cut him off before he could continue.

"Upstairs," Sam grabbed Foyle by the shirt sleeve effectively dragging him to the staircase. "Come see for yourself."

When they reached the top of the stairs the evidence of the break-in was hard to miss. Wood splinters littered the floor of the landing. A large bureau was sitting out of place next to the farthest door to the left. Deep drag marks were evident where the intruder had dragged the large piece of furniture from its rightful place using it as an effective barricade to the older woman's room.

The door to Sam's room was wide open. They found Milner standing in the open doorway.

"Sir." Milner said with a head nod to Foyle. There was no mistaking the hint of guilt that hung off of the three letter word.

Milner stepped aside and offered Foyle and Lexie the full view of what was left of Sam's room. Sam had used the word obliterated to describe what the intruder had done to her room. Standing in the doorway and taking it all in, Lexie wasn't sure if 'obliterated' was quite strong enough.

The walls had deep gashes in them. The bed had been flipped onto its side and gutted. Lexie imagined the Jumper did to the bed what he couldn't do to Sam since-thank God—she wasn't home. The drawers were ransacked, their contents spilled all over the floor. The closet hadn't remained untouched either. Clothes, shoes, and cases were lying half in it and half out. The mirror over her dresser had been smashed. Its empty frame now hung crooked and empty on the wall. The lamp had been thrown through the window. Lexie knew this for the base still hung caught up on the sill.

"What happened here?" Foyle asked as he turned in slow circles in the middle of Sam's room.

Fidgeting with his coat pocket Milner produced his small notebook.

"Right, well, ahhh, Mrs. Harrison," Milner quickly looked up from the notebook at Foyle, "Sam's landlady." Just as quickly as he had looked at Foyle, Milner glanced back down at the notebook, flipping pages, "Ummm, Mrs. Harrison says that someone broke into the house around 5am this morning. She didn't hear them enter, however, thought it was Sam because she's the only girl in the house right now. She came out from her room to see, and was surprised by a large man wearing all black with a black mask over his face. The intruder hit Mrs. Harrison in her face and then forced her back into her own room. He barricaded the door with the bureau. She then heard the intruder enter Sam's room. She heard him yell."

"What did he yell?" Foyle who had at that point simply been taking in all of Milner's information interrupted.

Milner made a show to look through his notes again, "Ahhh, she wasn't sure what he was saying, sir. Couldn't quite make it out with all of the other noise. My guess -he was ransacking the room at the time. After some time Mrs. Harrison remembered her late husband's shotgun at the back of her closet. She found the weapon and then shot through her door."

"That would explain the wood splinters out in the hall." Lexie threw in.

"hmmm" Foyle agreed.

"After the first shot Mrs. Harrison heard the intruder enter back into the hall. Hoping to scare him off she shot off two more rounds. I think she hit him though. There's blood on the back stairs that lead into the kitchen. And a few spots of it on the kitchen floor."

Worrying the inside of his cheek Foyle remained steadfast in the middle of the room. His eyes slowly taking in the destruction all around until they finally came to rest on Sam. Who was presently half hiding behind Lexie.

"Where were you when…ummm… when all of thisss took place?" It was more an accusation than a question.

"I stayed at a friend's house last night, sir." Obviously Sam had been prepared for this question. Her answer was delivered straight-forward and to the point. It might have been accepted without so much as a blink if it hadn't been for the look Sam and Milner exchanged right before she had said it.

It was the same look that she and Foyle now exchanged as Lexie said, "Thank God she wasn't here." Subconsciously Foyle's hand reached into his coat pocket where the Jumpers threatening note lay.

"Rrright." Lexie could feel Foyle weighing his options. Confront Milner and Sam about Sam's whereabouts last night or move forward with the investigation. "Sam, I want you to pack a few things." Apparently the investigation had won out. "We'll have to find you a safe place to stay."

"Oh I couldn't leave Mrs. Harrison, sir. She's all torn up over this. And besides…I don't think whoever did this will be back. They obviously found whatever it is they were looking for. Although I couldn't imagine what that was…" Sam picked up a spilt bottle of perfume from her vanity, "lipstick, perhaps?"

Foyle and Lexie exchanged another look.

"He'll be back Sam." Lexie assured the girl.

"Why do you think that?" Milner asked.

" Cause he didn't find what he was looking for." Lexie told him.

"How can you be sure?" Milner persisted.

"Because what he was looking for wasn't here." Foyle pointed his hat that had been in his hands at Sam.

"Me, sir?"

Foyle placed his hat squarely back onto his head. He tilted his head to the left, "Yes." The answer was barely more than a whisper. Then he left the room in search of Mrs. Harrison.

Sam looked to Lexie for some answers.

"Me?"

Lexie let out a long sigh while Milner and Sam waited for her reply.

"There's been a threat made against you Sam. As a matter of fact we thought that…" Lexie caught herself before she revealed too much. The girl was scared enough. She didn't need to know that they had thought they were walking into a murder scene rather than a break-in. "Doesn't matter what we thought…" She rubbed Sam down the length of her arm. Not so much to comfort the girl, but to reassure herself that Sam was indeed standing here in front of her still in one piece. "DCS Foyle and I think its best that you're placed into protective custody for now."

"A threat made against me? You mean that this….wasn't random?"

Lexie shook her head. Not only was it not random, it was all Lexie's fault. It was unbelievably hard to watch as Sam's sweet innocence fell apart. No longer would the world outside look the same to this girl. Sam was never supposed to feel the darkness that existed all around them. It was one thing to know that it was there and entirely another to feel it in your bones.

All of these years later Lexie remembered vividly the day she had been introduced to the darkness, it was the day her parents had been murdered. She had been fifteen at the time and had snuck out that night to meet a young man. Alexander Woods-she would never forget that name. He was twenty and had just moved to town. She had met him at the local hang out that all of the kids went to after school. That night she had lost her virginity to him while her parents had been taken hostage in their own home. They had been bound and gagged then tortured to death while she and Alexander had been out having the time of their lives. When she came home she walked into the darkness. It stabbed her straight through her chest and now lived deep inside her. She never wanted that for Sam.

"Who made the threat, Dr. Greene?" It was Milner who interrupted her thoughts. "Was it the same man that attacked you Thursday night?"

Lexie nodded her head while Milner's right hand went instinctively up Sam's back in protection mode. Hearing Foyle's steps out in the hall Milner quickly snatched his hand away but it was too late. Lexie was sure of this by the deep set in Foyle's eyes as he stood there in the doorway.

"Dr. Green, come take a look at something, would you?" Even though the question was meant for her Foyle's eyes never left Milner. Ohhh boy, Lexie thought. That look was normally reserved solely for her. Poor Milner.

"Yes, sir."

Once she and Foyle were on the back stairs he stopped her about halfway down.

"What do you make of that?" He whispered

Lexie made a show of looking around the area. "Of what, sir? You haven't shown me anything yet."

Foyle let out a sigh and set his jaw at her. "You're nnnnot blind. You know to what I'm referring."

Ah man, she did NOT want to have this conversation with him.

"Milner and Sam?"

"mmmYup….after she dropped me off last night after our desperate search for you, she was going to drop Milner off at his place. She obviously never left."

"It seems to me you've figured it all out then." Lexie went to take another stair and continue to head down, but Foyle grabbed her upper arm and stopped her.

"He's a married man."

Lexie let out a frustrated growl. He wasn't going to let this go.

"A very unhappy married man whose wife has left him. And even before she physically left him I'm fairly certain she wasn't there for him." Lexie shook his grasp on her upper arm loose, but he just held on tighter.

"That gives him the right to take advantage of an impressionable young girl?"

"First off-Sam is not a girl. She's a woman. And who are we to judge if they did…ahhh….whatever it is you're thinking they did? When we ourselves…."

Foyle held up his free hand to silence her.

"That's different." The great detective let go of her to rub vigorously at the back of his neck. The tension in the air between them grew visibly thicker just at the mention of their unfortunate transgression. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut?

"Foyle, I don't know what happened. But I do know that Milner is a good man and I don't think that he would allow something inappropriate to transpire between them. And if it did I'm sure they both have given great thought to it."

"And I'mmmm nnnot a good man?"

"I didn't say that." Man she had put her foot into it this time.

He tipped his hat to her, "I'd say it was implied." Then he continued down the stairs. She followed in silence behind him. She had thought they had managed to put last night behind them. She now realized it wasn't going to be a straight road to recovery, but one filled with detours and switchbacks. With this damn case hovering over their heads they really didn't need any distractions.


End file.
